The First Hunger Games
by BlamingTheNargles
Summary: When Tori Yates is selected for the first ever Hunger Games against tributes trained by the rebels themselves is it possible that she can make it home alive?
1. Chapter 1

District Three is one of the larger districts located in the heart of Panem. It used to be a city but not much has changed in the years that it has been part of Panem. It is crowded with sky high buildings that I suppose once might have looked nice but are now broken, run down and covered in graffiti. The buildings are even more depressing since the failed revolution happened and parts were destroyed. It is in one of the worst buildings, even for District Three, where I live. The building is tall but not wide and it is not metal like the other buildings but has year's worth of paint peeling down the sides. Above the door is a stained and faded sign that reads "West District Three Orphanage", I've lived here all my life.

Inside, it is, if possible, even more of a miserable place. The walls are a mouldy yellow colour with darker stains and patches. The place has a gentle hum of voices which is eerily quiet when you consider the sheer amount of children who reluctantly call this place home. Occasionally when you walk through the door you can hear the loud wailing of a new resident, this usually stops after a few hours as they become hollow and cold, the effect of this place.

My room is on the top floor with the more permanent residents who the workers try to just keep quiet and out of the way. I have a bunk and a shelf and share the small room with five other girls who are just like the other quiet, emotionless residents and keep mostly to themselves. My best friend, Connor, lives across the hall in the boy's dorm on this floor. He's different from the other children here; his hazel eyes still have a spark in them and he's not as skinny, though that's mostly down to me.

Living in the orphanage, you eat fast or you don't eat at all. I'm fast and agile but you don't get nearly enough, so when I was eight, I got a job. Only helping out at a family run carpenters who pitied the orphan children but it paid well enough to ensure that neither Connor nor I would starve. When the orphanage found out, I was beaten and put in solitary, a small room in the cellar of the home, for a week. Something about not being thankful for being at the orphanage instead of on the streets. Whatever, you starve on the streets and you starve in here.

I work in one of the factories now, developing musical chips, I had to lie about my age but I will not let Connor or Grace, a little girl who I think of as a sister, starve. She joined when her parents were killed during the revolution, and risked starvation; I guess the rebels cared for orphans as much as the capitol did. Today though starvation's the least of their worries.

I stand in front of a dusty, cracked mirror, the one in our floor's bathroom, brushing my hair. I have to hide my hairbrush down the side of my bunk, I've never had any possessions given to me so if the workers find out they will think I stole it, worth a two days in solitary. I bought it with my money though, of course that's worth a week as well as a beating.

I'm wearing a ripped orange dress that they gave me for today, as much as I love new clothes, orange is definitely not my colour. Of course if I am chosen today then the colour of my dress won't be what is on my mind. Today is the day of the first ever reaping, last week President Snow announced the Hunger Games, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't petrified.

I can hear the scramble of feet and know that it must be time to go, shaking; I return my hairbrush and take a last look in the mirror. The dress is too big for my slim frame, I'm less bony than the other girls but I'm still underweight. My dark brown hair is swept into a ponytail as normal and I'm not even taking my cello-taped glasses off, why should I try to look nice for the people trying to kill me? I sigh and see Connor in the hall and run over, he's wearing a light blue shirt and dark trousers, why can't I wear that instead of this orange parachute?

He laughs when he sees me, a sound so unnatural within these walls that it draws glares from the other children yet he still doesn't stifle it.

"So when did you break out of prison?" he jokes, now that he mentions it, the dress does resemble the jumpsuits prisoners use to wear, before every criminal, no matter how petty the crime was shot, whipped or turned into an avox.

"Come on," I laugh, pulling him along with me. Only Connor can draw a laugh out of me on such an awful day. We arrive in the town centre and we fill our names in so that the Capitol knows that we came, attendance is mandatory. Our names are registered eight times, four because we are sixteen and four again for four years worth of tesserae, even though the games have only just begun, orphans are forced to sign up for tesserae to help the orphanage afford food.

When we go into the separate sections and it really hits me why we are here, to fight to the death for the Capitols amusement and to punish us for the revolution. It's okay, Grace is safe, she's only eight. And that just leaves me to worry for Connor's safety, and just as I see him in the boys section a young woman with a silver beehive mounts the stage.

"Welcome and Hello," She says in her stupid Capitol accent, "The reapings for the first ever annual Hunger Games will begin shortly." She smiles around at the miserable faces in the audience and I notice that she actually has jewels in her teeth; the things the Capitol thinks beautiful never cease to amaze me. "But first _however_, I would like to introduce your mentor, Quentin Holden." She beams.

A short man with purple skin stands up from a chair at the back of the stage, for such an exaggerated person it's surprising that I hadn't even noticed he'd gone on stage. He doesn't walk forward but awkwardly waves at the audience before sitting back down.

The Capitol woman jumps back to the microphone, almost falling of stage in her eight inch platform shoes. I'd laugh if I didn't know that the idiotic woman on stage could at any moment pull my name from the glass ball. "Right, it is time now, may the odds be _ever _in your favour." She smiles again, seriously, didn't her jaw hurt with all that smiling? That is why I'm a miserable person. Well no I'm not, but I'm not exactly happy-go-lucky.

I begin worrying but then it dawns on me, "ladies first!" she says, why would an orphan be chosen anyway? The whole point is to give the message that the Capitol can take the rebels children. And I'm nobody's child. Her hand goes into the ball. So they wouldn't pull out my name! And just as I'm convincing myself I'm safe she mutters the name that will change my life forever. "Tori Yates!" that's me, I think, and then I faint.


	2. Chapter 2

I've fainted twice in my life, both when I was young, both from hunger. Unfortunately, this doesn't last anywhere near as long; in fact I think I'm out for about two seconds. I come to and I must have started to fall as the girl behind me has caught me, I don't know her name but it's a big district. The woman on stage is staring around at the audience as though expecting me to be jumping up and down with joy. Instead I stumble forward out of the mass of children and into the barred off area filled with peacekeepers. Two come forward and escort me to the stage; I suppose until the Games begin I will always be guarded in case I try to run away.

The woman comes forward and shakes my hand as I mount the stage. I force myself not to jump at her, of all the names she could have chosen she chose mine?

"What's your name?" she asks in her odd accent. Did I hear her right? She just read my name out in front of the whole district, ruining my life and she needs me to repeat my name?  
>"Tori," I say, "Tori Y-Yates" the whole of Panem is watching me and apparently I have stage fright.<p>

"Tori Yates!" She repeats, beaming at the audience. They give a half hearted round of applause for me, the first ever tribute of District Three. "And gentlemen!" she walks over to the other glass ball, puts her hand in and pauses for dramatic effect. She slowly unfolds the name she has chosen and reads in a ringing voice "Byron Menders." Good, I think. No one that I know. My relief is short lived however, as a burly eighteen year old takes to the stage.

As soon as we have finished we are whisked into the justice building. "Welcome. I'm Jayda Sandler your escort," the woman beams at us as though there is nowhere we would rather be, "now is the time to say goodbye to your family and friends. Tori you are in the room to the right. Byron the room to the left."

I walk through and wonder who will visit me. The room is big and luxurious. Everything is either rich, dark wood or deep purples and reds. Opposite me is a bookshelf that takes up the entire wall and contains everything from battered, old novels to glistening, new books. A huge chandelier hangs from the intricate ceiling, illuminating the room.

I sit on one of the plush purple sofas and just as I'm wondering who will visit the door bursts open. The five girls who share my room come running through weeping and pull me into a massive hug. "We'll miss you so much!" They babble through tears. I feel really guilty now for thinking they were lacking emotions and opinions. Eventually a peacekeeper comes in and tells them to leave. They've said goodbye, they don't think I'm coming back.

Next through are the two people that I've been aching most to see, Grace and Connor. Grace looks so cute in her little pink and baby blue dress with her soft brown curls tied up with a turquoise ribbon, the same colour as her eyes. I got her it for her Birthday; it was all I could afford. Connor's matt brown hair is messy as per usual and I can tell he's holding in tears. Just one look at them and I burst into tears. They rush over and hug me telling me it will be okay.

"You'll come home Tori." Says Grace her eyes staring at me knowingly. How can she lose another person in her life?

"I won't Grace, I can't." I start. "No, don't get upset, just listen. The other kids are big and strong, you saw Byron. I can't fight like they can –"

"But you're smart Tori." Connor interrupts me.

"Everyone in District Three is smart." I reply.

"No, you're better. You're the best of every class and you're street smart. You always think things through."

"And what good's that against a knife? A sword? A spear?" I almost shout in frustration. Grace has kept quiet the whole time, just clutching onto me for dear life.

"Then don't get into a position where you are in danger." Connor retorts. I go to interrupt but he carries on. "No Tori, listen to me. Stay out the way, let them kill each other off and win. You may not have the skills to fight but you definitely have the skills to survive, you've been doing it all your life!"

There's no point arguing with him, he won't take no for an answer, I guess if our positions were reversed I wouldn't either. "Okay, I'll try."

"Tori?" Grace asks, "When you win we can live in the big houses in the Victors Village."

"That's right," Connor continues, "and we can have banquets every day."

"Would you like that?" I joke tickling Grace. My last time with her, I want her to be happy and what's wrong with giving her some hope? She takes the ribbon out of her hair and hands it to me.

"Your token," she says. "For when you're in the arena." I turn my head so I don't cry and see Connor get out a strip of wire that he must have snuck out of school. When I've calmed down and looked back he has turned it into a simple yet beautiful bracelet. He attaches it round my wrist without tearing his gaze from my eyes.

"Promise me you'll try to come home." He says, his eyes still not leaving mine.

"I promise." I mutter. And hug him again, Grace still clutching around my waist. Just then two peacekeepers come in and announce that our time is up and that Connor and Grace have to leave.

"No!" I shriek. They can't go yet, I'll never see them again. I cling on, and they cling back. So hard that additional peacekeepers have to come in and wrench us apart. They are dragged out the door and I am held onto the sofa.

I can't help it now, I'm sobbing and I sit there crying for what feels like hours until I realise that I should be on the train now. I stop crying, wipe my glasses and dry my eyes on the back of my hand. I find my way shaking to my feet. What chance did a girl like me have in the arena? I stumble over to the door and listen. It sounds so loud out there. I can hear shouting and running but I can't make out any distinct words.

I open the door and am met with a shove by a peacekeeper who was clearly standing outside, stopping me from escaping. Come to think of it there are no windows in this room.

"Stay in your room, Miss" She says forcefully. I fall backwards and quickly scramble back to my feet.

"I'm sorry...it's just...I was wondering...shouldn't I be on a trai-"

"Stay in your room, Miss." She repeats and closes the door. I hear a key turn and know that I am locked in here now. With nothing else to do, I go sit back on the sofa and think through what Connor and Grace said.

I am clever, not to brag but I am. Still if it was a test then I might stand a chance but fighting to the death? Grace probably had a better chance of survival. To outsmart them though? There might be something in that. I guess I will have to discuss it with my mentor, who should probably have come to see me by now.

Still, if I do win we get a giant house in the Victors Village. That's in the nicer part of District Three, the opposite end to the orphanage. And it would be just Connor, Grace and me. Our own weird little family together. And enough food that I never have to worry about them starving. And money too, I can buy Grace everything she deserves. We can all even have our own rooms!

Okay, calm down, I tell myself, I have to win first and I shouldn't get carried away. Still, what great motivation to win!

The door opens and in walks Quentin Holden and I notice that his purple skin is more of a lilac and his eyes are yellow, probably Capitol contacts or surgery. He gives me a nervous wave and twitches over to a seat opposite me. He is followed by Jayda Sandler looking uptight and irritated.

"Don't sit down!" She screeches at Quentin. "We're on a tight schedule and we're an hour and a half late! All thanks to that boy-"

"Boy?" I ask, "As in Byron, is he why we're late? What did he do?"

"That is no concern of yours!" Jayda shouts looking exasperated, I'd feel sorry for her if she wasn't refusing to tell me what's going on. "Now come on we have to get on the train." And she hurries out the door, Quentin and I following.

"Is she always so...?" I mutter to Quentin.

"Jayda? This is her when she's calm. Let's just say it's alot easier if you stick to the schedule." He says giving me a wary look. We both walk quicker as Jayda starts screeching about the importance of schedules. This tribute thing is going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

We carry on walking down the hallway, Jayda still ranting and there is still no sign of Byron. When we turn as the hallway bends I see a door that looks strangely out of place in the exquisite building. It's large and made of a silver metal, it has large rusty bolts and it has clearly been here a long time, possibly since the building was first built. Jayda has to run a silver key-card along the rim which makes it slide effortlessly open which is odd as I was expecting a groan.

"They don't want anyone escaping the district," explains Quentin waving the key-card that hangs from around his neck, "only the mayor and Capitol workers have a key."

Well isn't that typical? The only way I'm getting out is being sent to my death. When we step through the door I am on a platform of a small train station crowded with hectic peacekeepers and Capitol workers in black trousers, white shirts and name tags. Attendants for the train maybe? The roar of noise sounds so loud compared to the silence of the justice building. A giant black train takes up most of the space, nothing like the tiny shuttles we have throughout the city.

I barely have a second to take this all in before I am being shoved onto the train and the door is slammed shut behind me. The noise immediately stops and I am left standing there with Jayda and Quentin. The corridor is long with a wooden floor and red walls, fake candelabras hang from the ceiling and a gentle hum tells me that the train has already started moving.

Quentin disappears off down one end of the train leaving Jayda and I alone.

"Your room is down there, third door on the left." Jayda tells me and goes to walk away in the opposite direction. I run and catch up with her.

"Oh okay and Byron's room, where would that be?" I ask, desperate for answers. Instead she glares at me and walks off.

"Dinner's in the front cart at seven. Don't be late!" she shouts over her shoulder before she too disappears into one of the rooms. Great, now I'm alone. With nowhere else to go I go down the corridor to my room. When I open the room I am utterly speechless, the room is bigger than my entire floor back home.

The bed is huge; we could probably fit all of the girls in my room on it and still have plenty of room to spare. The wardrobe is huge and has mirrored doors; there is a touch panel on it and a separate cupboard for shoes. There is also a large writing desk with pens and paper stacked neatly in the corner. The bathroom is equally huge with a walk in shower with about fifty faucets and another touch screen panel. Out the window I get a last glimpse of District 3, on reaping day everyone has electricity and with the lights on in the buildings it looks beautiful.

The first thing I do is strip of the orange dress, wanting to be rid of the garment sooner rather than later, I leave my bracelet on though. I jump in the shower and must spend about an hour playing with the many options for soaps and fragrances. When I'm done I walk out and am blasted with warm air that instantly dries me. When I place my hand on a panel a shot of electricity detangles my hair. I don't think I've ever been so clean.

I go over to the wardrobe and choose a black skirt, blue shirt and a chunky cream cardigan. The shoes are the most exciting part, all of mine have had many users before me and none have ever fitted me right. In the end I settle for some simple black pumps, not trusting myself to be able to walk in the high heeled numbers.

I look into the full length mirror, I'm me but better. My dark brown hair is wavy and reaches just below my shoulders but it somehow looks sleeker, my ashen skin smoother, my body fuller. My clothes have always been baggy but the cardigan has more shape to it and my posture looks better without the baggy jumpers on. I seem brighter too, I've only ever seen myself in the mirrors in the orphanage, the lighting there is dull and flickers, thinking of it makes this Capitol room seem too bright, too artificial.

I check the time which is projected onto the wall; I still have an hour till dinner so I walk over to the desk to start writing my goodbye letters. I start with Connor, but how do I express year's worth of gratitude into a single letter? I write several letters, each worse than the last. I decide to go onto Grace but that's even harder than Connor. Fifty minutes later the pile of paper has turned into a single sheet and I wouldn't be surprised if the rubbish disposal shoot was blocked from the amount of paper I have thrown down it.

Sighing I decide to make my way to dinner. When I go to open my door however I find it's locked. I've been trapped in here ages without knowing. I'm getting really mad now, really I'm not going anywhere, they must know I'm not escaping, I'm on a moving train for crying out loud! Urgh! I fling myself on the bed, I'm not going anywhere, I don't want to be here but they are going a bit overboard, I assumed once I was on the train I would have some more freedom.

They know that I have no choice but to go to the Games, or the very least the Capitol, but why guard me on the train? And then the answer becomes obvious, Byron. I don't know what he's done but now it is effecting me and that is not right. I already have an hour less to be prepped than the other tributes and now I'm confined to my room? Just as I'm getting really angry there is a knock on the door.

Quentin comes in with a nervous smile. "It's umm time for dinner now, if you'll just umm come with me." I quite like Quentin at the moment, he seems almost as nervous as me. Of course my opinion of him could all change if he doesn't prove useful to my survival but at the moment the sight of him relaxes me.

I hop off of bed and follow him down the corridor, neither of us saying a word, though it's quite a comfortable silence though, all things considered. When we walk into the room I am genuinely shocked, whatever I was expecting it wasn't this.

The room is again huge, the starters have just popped up out of the table and the windows on either wall show a blur of colour but what really shocked me are the people sitting there. Jayda and Byron. I try not to look too shocked and sit down opposite Byron. He has already started eating and Jayda looks rather disgusted at the thought of eating but she starts when we are all sat down. Maybe she has to eat on schedule too?

The food is really delicious; I've never had anything like it. The "starter" as Jayda calls it, is a juicy fruit and something orange and salty.

"Melon and smoked salmon." Quentin tells me. Byron isn't even using one of the many knives and forks lined up at the side of the plate; this gives Jayda the funniest expression I have ever seen that I have ever seen on a person. I start to laugh but quickly disguise it as a cough into my napkin at the daggers Jayda shoots at me, which just makes me laugh more.

"Maybe if you slowed down you wouldn't choke on your food." Jayda says in her affected accent. It takes all my will not to shout at her that she would eat quickly if it was that or not eating at all. After that though I do try to slow down but I physically can't and I'm the first to finish every one of the five courses. Each is delicious and after the second course I am full, I keep eating though as I really do need to put on some weight before the games.

When we are half way through the meal Quentin clears his throat and says that we meet our stylists tomorrow and that we have to wear whatever they tell us to. Well it can't be much worse than the parachute. As the meal is ending I can't stand it anymore.

"So, is anybody going to tell me what is going on?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" Asks Jayda but she sounds annoyed. Well if she gave me some answers then I wouldn't keep asking.

"Oh I don't know." I start sarcastically, "Maybe the fact that we were an hour and a half late on the train, I was locked in my room and you two have kept practically silent for the whole meal!"

To my surprise it's Byron who answers, I haven't heard him say anything for the whole journey. "Oh, they tried to take my family away when I was saying goodbye, they were high up in the rebels so they knew I would be chosen so we took out some peacekeepers. Got hold of one of their guns and stunned some others. They shot my parents, well they would be executed anyway and I was tranquilised. I woke up on the train and now I'm going to the Hunger Games." He says in such a casual tone that he could be talking about the weather.

The effect is immediate; I drop my cutlery, Jayda's jaw drops and Quentin lets out a shriek. Jayda starts screeching that it was supposed to be kept secret and Byron yelling back that it doesn't matter because it was his information to share. All I can think though is that Byron will die in the arena, the gamemakers will kill him and I'm just hoping that coming from the same district as that idiot won't put me in danger too.

Jayda and Byron storm off to their rooms, both of them are rather stubborn apparently, leaving just Quentin and I.

"Oh and Tori, you will be going into surgery before the prepping begins." He says.

"Excuse me?" I don't want talons or whiskers or lilac skin! Like all the Capitol residents we have seen in the District due to the aftermath of the rebellion.

"Eye surgery. You can't have glasses in the games can you?" he laughs, "Say they get broken, you won't be able to see!" He leaves the room still chuckling.

Yes, I think sight would be an advantage in the games.


	4. Chapter 4

When I wake up in the morning I lie in bed thinking about the day ahead. Tonight it is the opening ceremony and I will have to make an impression if I am to win any sponsors. According to President Snow the opening ceremony "will be a chance to introduce you to the rest of Panem" even though we won't actually say anything, the Capitol only cares about looks anyway.

Eventually I roll out of bed, I can hear the whir of the air conditioning and it's still warm in here. I pull on a pair of light blue denim shorts, a white vest top and a pair of brown sandals. I fiddle absentmindedly with my bracelet. I decide to go down to breakfast; my door isn't locked as I now know what happened with Byron.

This time it is a small buffet so I help myself to some of everything, I want to try all the exotic fruit and meat, we live off of grain at the orphanage, occasionally with some kind of source or vegetable. A server brings me a glass with white frothy stuff in with brown specks. "Hot chocolate" he calls it, it's absolutely delicious. I finish the large meal quickly and sit there sipping the drink until others come.

When everyone arrives we begin to pull into the Capitol. I run to the window in spite of myself, it is just as if not more beautiful than pictures shown in school or on TV. The buildings come in every shape and size in every colour imaginable. It makes district 3 look even shabbier, Jayda tells me to come away from the window but I can't. It's gorgeous, a place where nothing bad could happen, certainly not where they watch children fight to the death for their amusement.

The people are even more amazing, though weird at the same time. They are like the buildings, wearing brightly coloured clothes, skin dyed absurd colours, hair in neon shades. Then there are the truly weird, gems in the skin, horns, claw like hands. They see the train and realise it must hold tributes so they start waving. I shrink back, how dare they, as if I am happy to see them, as though I am happy to be here.

I sit back down feeling nauseous, I shouldn't have eaten so much. Jayda looks happy to be back in the Capitol, Quentin looks worried as he realises his mentor duties are about to start.

"Right," says Jayda, "we will be arriving in twenty minutes, you will meet your prep team and stylist and then be prepped, you will eat lunch with your stylist and then at five thirty we will leave for the opening ceremony. Clear? Good."

She gets up and leaves, clipboard in hand. We sit there in silence whilst everyone finishes eating. I idly dip biscuits into my hot chocolate; I wish we had food like this back home. The train slows and eventually comes to a stop in a bright white station; I don't think we have this colour at home.

Quentin leads us off the train and we are immediately surrounded by a barrier of peacekeepers. He walks us through a door at the end and we are in a large foyer. We take seats on multi-coloured sofas and wait. After about ten minutes a woman enters the room, she doesn't look like a typical Capitol citizen apart from the fact that her skin sometimes shimmers as it catches the light.

She smiles at us as she walks over but she seems rather shy. She shakes each of our hands and tells us her name is Paris, I'm thinking that I quite like her and I might get an alright outfit with her as my stylist. Then however she tells us that she is Byron's stylist, he goes off with her and I'm left alone with Quentin.

Five minutes later a man enters who looks to be the stereotypical Capitol citizen, pale orange skin, white hair, black tattoos and pointed aqua nails. He walks over, arms out stretched, grinning.

"Hello! Hello! I'm Blake; of course you knew that right!" Okay, I don't like him. He drags me off to a side room and I catch Quentin give me a look that clearly shows that he feels sorry for me. "Right, let's get you sorted first because I can't design that!" he points at me and laughs, clearly not realising that that's an insult. "Ok in there first, I'll be back later to make improvements." And then he leaves.

I go through a side room and am jabbed in the arm with a sharp needle. Everything goes hazy, then black, my knees buckle and I fall to the floor.

When I wake up I'm naked on the floor of the room where I last saw Blake, my glasses are gone and I can see fine, clearly that was the Capitols idea of surgery. I stand up and see that I'm not alone, there are three people surrounding me, three women who all look the same but with different coloured hair, red, blue and yellow. They are huddled together and suddenly stop talking and look at me.

"Oh good you're awake!" Says the blue haired one, running forward, "I'm Dalia, this is Talia and Kalia." She says gesturing to the yellow and red hired ones. She then babbles mostly to herself, with occasional input from the others as I am forced to bath in many creams. "This may hurt a bit." She tells me as she puts a brown liquid on my leg and puts a strip of paper on it. She suddenly tears the paper off and I yelp in pain. This continues wherever there is hair on my body.

When they are done with the baths, creams and waxing they hand me a silky, purple dressing gown which I pull on. At least one of the creams stopped my skin from stinging after the waxing. The three of them leave and Blake comes in, he takes my hand which has been moisturised and my nails shaped and given a clear coat of varnish.

"You look so much better! And your glasses are gone! Your eyes aren't as pretty as I had hoped for but the good news is we can make do!" He says smiling as we sit down at a table in the corner. He taps a few buttons and food comes up, it sickens me how easy it is for them to get so much food so easily when I've seen children die of starvation.

I sit there eating lamb shank in a red wine sauce whilst he tells me how amazing his designs are. How he is easily the best stylist and how all the other tributes would be so jealous of his design because he is that amazing. Focus on the food, I tell myself, don't slap the idiot.

When we are done eating he helps the prep team do my makeup and nails. Then they blindfold me and put me in a dress, it's tight, one shouldered and fairly short. When they take my blind fold off I am genuinely astounded.

I look really pretty, the dress is silver and looks like coils of wire have been repeatedly wrapped round me to create the design. My nails are grey with silver flecks that match the darker silver parts of the wire dress. My makeup is simple everywhere apart from my eyes which have a metallic silver smoky eye effect. My hair is half up half down, curly and swept off of my face. My shoes are high heeled but not Jayda high and are a shiny silver with intricate detail so that on closer inspection it looks like a circuit board. I look amazing, Blake is good! He's still arrogant, rude and self-opinionated but he is still good, I would never be able to look this good by myself.

"Oh I am good, it was difficult but I did it!" he smiles and the prep team congratulate him in high pitched voices.

I'm rushed out the door into the foyer. When Quentin sees me he sighs in relief, clearly like me he was expecting something awful. Jayda is with him clutching her clip board.

"Good, you're done, now come on we have to go to the training centre, that's where the ceremony starts." She ushers me outside and into a sleek black car with Byron who is wearing a black shirt with silver dots and flicks, black trousers and shoes that match his top. He doesn't talk, back to his silent mantra.

When we arrive we are shown to our cart which is black and decorated with lights, two black horses pulling us also have lights on. When the lights hit the specks of silver on our clothes, shoes and nails the light is reflected making us seem like we are radiating light. The ceremony starts and we are third out. To say it simply, the audience love us.

They are all screaming for us to wave to them but I refuse, when I look at us on the screen we look amazing, we are hostile yet glamorous. We are wonderful. President Snow comes out with his daughter and son. His daughter will be president after him and she looks excited, his son looks merely curious.

We are still riding around when he makes his speech about the games, I try to drown it out, the last thing I need on camera is my disapproving expressions of President Snow for the game makers to see.

On our final lap the audience go mental and start chanting their favourite districts, it's fairly diverse but I can definitely make out a good proportion of the crowd chanting for District Three.

And then it's done, Blake comes running out with Paris, she looks pleased but he looks absolutely ecstatic.

"I am absolutely brilliant!" He says. Yep he made me look good in front of a crowd waiting so that they can cheer for my death. Yay.


	5. Chapter 5

The training centre is very large; when you enter there is a huge waiting room with a shiny gold desk where Capitol workers sit. There are people everywhere, walking around, chatting on sofas, or people wearing all white standing silent at various points.

It is late when we get in so we go straight up to our rooms, there is a crystal elevator which is faster and smoother than the rickety ones we have in District Three which are lucky to work, often you had to take the stairs to our floor at the orphanage. We are only on the third floor which is weird as I am used to being so high up. We are some of the first to get out of the elevator.

My room is identical to the room that I had on the train, I have a shower to wash off the makeup and change into a pair of silk pyjamas. I climb into bed thinking about the opening ceremony. Our reaction was good but not as good as District One's, whose gemmed outfits flickered between colours depending on the angle you saw it from, and the same as a few other districts. The door knocks and I get up to answer it.

When I open the door I see Quentin standing there, he hurries inside and I shut the door behind him.

"Hey, Quentin." I greet him.

"Listen," He says, the urgency in his voice is so different from his usual awkwardness. "We need to discuss tactics before tomorrow as I'm guessing you don't want to do it in front of Byron. It's your first training session so is there anything that you are good at?"

"Ummm," I haven't really considered what could help me. "I'm smart."

"Always handy," he says seriously, "But you can't really practice it so is there anything the other tributes will see tomorrow. We'll discuss arena tactics later right now I need to know skills that you need to train."

"I'm fast." I think suddenly, "And agile, I was in the school sprint team and I was good at climbing up the ropes. I've never had any practice with weapons though."

"Okay, that could work but you need practice, I think that if you find you are good at something move on and you can practice it during your private sessions."

"Okay, have you spoken to Byron?" I ask.

"No...No I haven't..."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Why not? He needs to know too."

"I can only bring one of you home Tori. You're smart; you know that even if he is the best tribute he is going to die, I won't let both of you." He says and goes, shutting the door behind him and leaving my lying on the bed confused but flattered. Reassured that the person mentoring me actually cares about my survival I fall into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning I find myself running out of bed and into the shower, I overslept and Jayda would be furious. I type in the quickest shower routine possible and when I come out I find a pair of navy trousers and a long-sleeved white top with the number "3" stitched onto the back. There is also a pair of white trainers and socks; I suppose from now on Blake will be designing all of my outfits.

I pull them on and tie my hair back into its usual pony tail with the two strips on either side. Tying my bracelet back on, they took it off during the opening ceremony, I run out the door to breakfast. Everyone is there but I think I just made it on time, I take my usual seat next to Quinton.

"Hello Tori," says Jayda, "Now that everyone is here we can go through today's schedule, you have training in the training hall till lunch time then you will have private training in separate rooms this afternoon, Byron you will have a trainer, Tori you will have Quinton." Did he request me or was this already decided? "This evening you will have dinner at seven and we will discuss the training." She finishes smiling.

We eat the rest of the meal idly chatting, I help myself to a large portion as some of the children look rather large and I need to bulk up. I may have been the last to get to breakfast but I am once again the first to finish. The reaping seems like weeks ago instead of days but I find myself missing Connor and Grace, the longest I've been them was a week when I was in solitary but I've never been so far away.

When everyone is finished we make our way to the training hall which is on the thirteenth floor so we have to use the lift again. Quinton tells us we should try to talk to some of the other tributes at lunch.

We arrive on the floor and go through the wide archway that leads into a room half the size of District 3's town centre. Around the edges of the room are targets and Dummies with various weapons hanging beside them and a trainer by each station. I can see knives, swords, bows and arrows, maces, spears and more. Towards the end there are stations containing rope, pots of paint like substance and what looks like plants again with instructors. At the very end is an obstacle course that takes up the entire wall.

In the middle is a collection of tributes that are here already. We go and join them in the middle, no one is talking they are just standing there. So far the tributes from districts 1, 4, 7, 8 and 11 are here waiting. Both from District 1 and 4 volunteered as well as the boy from 7, both from District 2 volunteered as well but they aren't here yet.

The boy from District One is rather large and I think he is called Sterling, the girl is blonde and ditzy her name's Destiny. Oh District One why give your children such awful names? I only know that the girl from 4 is called Farrah and she is a giant. The worst is the twelve year old boy from 8 and the twelve year old girl from 11. I definitely wouldn't be able to kill them.

When the others arrive the ones who volunteered start talking together and I hear one them call the boy from Two Kairo. The instructor tells us to go to different stations. The volunteers all go to the weapons areas so I decide to start at edible plants. I explain that I don't know anything and listen intently as he describes different edible species showing examples. At the end I apply this to the test and pass with full marks, the instructor seems delighted.

At the next station I sit swirling my hand in the camouflage watching the other tributes. The volunteers are all very good; they are in it to win it and were probably trained by the rebels themselves. I decide to call them The Careers as this seems suitable. There are a couple of others that are good, the boy from Nine can lift alot on the weight machine and the girl from Seven seems very skilled with an axe, of course she does it for a living in the district of lumber.

I decide to try to concentrate on camouflage, I'm okay and it can definitely help but on close inspection it is clearly man made. Just as I'm finishing the boy from Six comes over, he sits down and starts using the camouflage.

"I'm Tyrell," he says, "They're all very good aren't they, mind you some were late and I don't think my escort would have liked that." I laugh inwardly, maybe schedule enthusiast was a trait looked for when hiring escorts. "That group will be hard, I think they've teamed up. Still I should be able to take out a few some, that girl and boy for instance ought to be easy." He points to the two twelve year olds, Riley and Dennis.

That's sick, how he can just talk about killing them like that. I glare at him and leave to the next station, unfortunately this is one of the weapons one. All of the careers are at the weight lifting area so I am free to try out the weapons.

I fail miserable at everything apart from knife throwing which I am good at and spear throwing which I am okay at. I always used to bowl during rounders games at school so I guess I'm okay at throwing things. I stay at the knife section trying to learn some moves as I need to know how to fight in close combat. Eventually I stop as I am becoming better and should probably leave it for private training.

I go over to the rope tying section, as I reach it though the careers go over to the knife section; the girl Farrah throws ten knifes and gets them all on the dummies heart which makes my attempt seem childish. Forget goodbye letters, I need to start writing my will.

I focus on the knots and ropes; here is something I can really excel at secretly. The intricate detail is easy for me as this reminds me of the circuits we build and this could actually help me as well. No one is watching me so I don't have to wait till this afternoon. When lunch time comes I haven't covered half the knots for beginners so I make a mental note to come back here tomorrow.

Lunch is a buffet so I pile my plate with various stews and meats and grab a glass of something orange. I go to sit down on a table by myself but remembering what Quentin said sit down with a couple of other girls my age instead. One has blonde hair and is from District Five the other has black hair and is from District Nine. Neither is talking so I feel like I have to start a conversation.

"I like this building; it reminds me of the tower blocks in District Three." I say and it immediately grabs their attention as we don't know anything about the other districts. This brings them into a really interesting conversation. Unfortunately this brings them into a rather boring conversation about flirting with boys where they both get rather giggly. I drown them out naturally hoping lunch would end soon. Instead of making allies with them I have made them allies with each other. In other words I've teamed up two people so that they can hunt and kill me.


	6. Chapter 6

Quentin comes into the lunch hall after I've finished eating and takes me to a supply room down the hall. It's bigger than my room back home and is full of the items from the training hall.

"So, what do you want to practice?" He asks me. I consider the earlier training and what I need to work on.

"Knife combat." I reply. He looks me up and down appraisingly before shrugging and grabbing a box of knives. He then leads me into the lift and back to floor three. We walk past my door to a room at the very end which has racks for weapons up one end, a large space in the middle and targets and dummies in the other.

"So did you do any of this earlier?" He asks me.

"I did some knife throwing; I guess I was okay but nowhere near as good as the careers." He gives me a questioning look and I add, "It's what I called the volunteers." He smiles and hands me a knife.

"Throw it; I want to see what I have to work with." I stare at the knife and grip it as the instructor told me to. I look at the target and focus on the centre, drawing my arm back I fling the knife with a flick of my wrist and watch as it completely misses the target and instead hits one of the dummies, right over its heart.

"Wow." Says Quentin looking utterly amazed.

"Umm I was aiming for that target over there."

"Right." He says a bit more disappointed. "Why don't you practice a bit more with these?" I throw the knives at the targets, Quinton correcting me as I go. This actually gets frustrating after a while.

"You do it then if you're so good!" I shriek after one of my knives only makes it half way before cluttering to the floor. He shrugs, picks three knives out of the box and before I have time to turn my head the knives are out of his hand and three targets at the end of the room have blades in the bulls-eye. My jaw drops and I follow the rest of his instructions without hesitation. Soon my knives all hit the targets, though most of them only reach the outer circles, it is still a vast improvement.

"Okay we'll practice again tomorrow, keep it secret though or better yet throw some bad knives so that they don't think you're good. I think that should be our tactic for training so that they don't see you as an immediate threat." So I have to pretend to be an awful fighter? Well that shouldn't take much effort. Finally something I'll be good at.

"Oh and stay away from maces, axes, swords and so on. I don't want you killing yourself so nothing that requires coordination, I don't like your chances." He adds with a wink. We both laugh, I'm a runner, and I wish I could transfer some coordination from that. I fall over my own feet though so of course I'll be lucky to get out of the launch area alive.

Next we move onto one on one battle with knives. We start with how to quickly move your wrist into different positions and frankly it's a miracle I didn't break it.

"Tori, you can't do this." He tells me, I suppose it's true. "We can keep trying but I honestly don't think it's going to get better." I nod. "So you said you were a good runner? Maybe evasion should be our best tactic. Come with me."

We leave the room, go back into the elevator and wind up back on the thirteenth floor. He leads me back into the room where we did the group training which is now empty.

"We wouldn't be able to find this in the supply cupboard." He leads me up to the other end of the hall to the obstacle course. There are lots of logs and rocks that would have to be dodged or jumped, a white shiny sheet, rock climbing walls and just walls with a rope as well as tyres and tunnels. He walks over to a section with an oddly shaped wall that juts at points with slight groves and occasional parts sticking out entirely.

"It's made to mimic the climbing patterns of trees," He says, "If you're good at running I thought you could try climbing. Have you done it before?"

"No." Other than once when I scaled a wall to avoid peacekeepers when I was out past the Districts curfew. We don't have any trees in District Three, even long ago when it was a place called New York there were few trees. Quentin gestures towards the wall.

I quickly grab hold of what is supposed to be a branch and wedge my foot into one of the grooves. I use it to hoist myself up until I am completely off of the ground. Up there the "branches" are thicker and it is easier to climb. I reach the top quickly and ring a bell up there.

"Good." Quentin says, nodding. I climb back down and join him as he leads me over to another wall. "This is the hardest tree styled obstacle on the course." The wall looks sparser and smoother and is about three times as high. I may have climbed that other one quite easily and naturally but this will take skill. "Do you think you can climb it?" I shrug and walk over to the wall.

I somehow manage to hook my fingers into the tiniest of dents and catch my toe on a small bump on the wall. I carry on like this, climbing using the otherwise imperceptible faults on the wall until I am about a third of the way up. I look around frantically, I'm about five metres high and I can't find anything to cling onto.

"Quentin? I umm I think I'm stuck." I'm not scared of heights but at this moment I'm terrified of falling.

"Okay, Tori I'm letting you down." He flicks a button and the air around me seems to waver before making a sucking noise. I'm encased in air that has formed around me and lifts me gently to the ground.

"What was that?" I mutter in amazement.

"Flexible force field." Well clearly it's not as that's impossible but I'm beginning to understand the idea, this is the type of thing we are taught at home and the remainder of this sends a pang of longing through me. I miss the orphanage, and that's something that I never thought I would do.

I quickly push the thought to the back of my mind and focus.

"Come on, I want to see how you are at the full obstacle course." I gulp; the course contains an obstacle from each minor section of training. We go to the start and Quentin pushes a button on the wall which starts a large timer.

"Go!" he shouts but I'm already off. The first part is rather easy jumping over fallen trees, rocks and holes in the ground. The hardest part is when I jump over a log that becomes enflamed and were the fire real I would have scorched my leg.

Either way I quickly finish and am moved onto crawling through tunnels and over nets. I have to roll under something that falls from the side but I keep moving and don't look back to see what it was. I react instinctively to the obstacles and so far it was working well.

After this I have to climb a wall with only a rope, climb one of the tree walls, do some stuff using rope in the air, jump through tyres and dodge obstacles. The hardest part was where I had to swing from one platform to another as I had to hold the right at exactly the right position and I held it slightly low so that I hit my knee on the end platform.

I finish the course by running across a clear sheet that sticks to my trainers so that I have to run on my toes with minimal weight. As I finish this Quentin pushes the button again which freezes the timer.

"Fifteen minutes and forty nine seconds." He says nodding.

"Is that bad? Sorry." I say, I didn't think it was too bad but I would be doing it with a burnt leg and sore knee if it were the real games.

"Bad? For a first attempt that was remarkable, though you need to be prepared for anything that the game makers might use against you. This technique could definitely work though we need to train more, don't try the obstacle course in group sessions but try the more alternative stations, camouflage, knot tying and weight lifting. That's enough for today, go back to your room and dinner's at seven."

I walk back in the lift to floor three where I see Byron.

"How was your training?" I ask politely. He grunts in response, do all boys act like this or just those who know they are facing certain death?

He shuts his door and I have no choice but to go into my room across the hall, my first day of training complete.


	7. Chapter 7

As the week progresses I continue to work on my knife handling, so much so that all throws hit the target, many in the centre. I have managed to tie every knot and make every trap at the rope section to varying degrees of accuracy. I pass the edible plants test easily and my time on the obstacle course has rapidly shortened. I have even managed to throw a decent spear. All in all I feel good about my chances in the games, although any hand to hand combat and I will be as good as dead.

Today is the day where the game makers see how good we are. Apparently they will rate us out of twelve and this will determine the amount of sponsors we will get. As the female district three tribute I will be one of the first to see them. That's this afternoon, this morning Byron and I have discussions with Quentin. He's in first so I have to wait with Jayda.

She's scribbling things down on the bright pink clipboard that I have become accustomed to seeing her with.

"Jayda," I ask, "what's the time?"

"10:43." She replies without glancing away from the clipboard. We return to the awkward silence. Jayda's nice, sort of, nothing can distract her when she is creating a schedule though. I start to think about what I've been thinking of an increasing amount recently, what it will be like in the games.

I haven't formed any bonds with any other tributes so I guess I will have no allies, I was talking to Riley and Dennis, they are nice enough but seemed scared of me being an older tribute. I don't know why when they are both far better at combat than I am and whilst I may be fast, I don't show that in group sessions so they should just think of me as a weakling. Before I can think of how they could die in the arena Jayda stops scribbling and looks up at me.

"Nervous?" she asks, her accent stronger than ever now that she has been back in the Capitol for nearly a week.

"Not really," I reply truthfully, "more confused, you know, about what I'm going to do in there."

"Well that is for Quentin and you to discuss." And as if by some power only Jayda could possess the door opens and Byron walks out. Quentin sticks his head out the door, smiles and waves me in. He won't tell me what Byron will do, he may be trying to make me come home but he will not purposefully sabotage him.

"Sit down, Tori." He smiles gesturing to the green sofa opposite the chair he takes in the small white room. I take a seat and wipe my hands on my trousers anxiously.

"So we have two options for today," He starts and I listen intently as he goes through strategies. By the end of the talk I know what I am going to do in front of the gamemakers and I feel strangely relaxed about the whole thing.

I sit at a lunch table by myself in the corner of the room. The careers sit together and so do Riley and Dennis and the two girls that I accidentally paired up. Tyrell sits at the table next to mine and his eyes keep darting around the room, taking in every tribute. His eyes merely flick over me. Good, he doesn't see me as a threat.

When the first tribute is called into the training centre a hum of excitement spreads through the careers as Sterling swaggers forwards. The other tributes bite their nails or shake nervously. It seems that with the exception of the careers I am the only one who is remotely calm.

I watch as Destiny, Kairo and the girl from Two go forward as their names are called. When Byron's name is called he sullenly marches forward, his heavy footsteps draw looks from the other tributes who have been talking, thinking or calming themselves down. He slams the door and I only hope he doesn't enrage the gamemakers as the last thing that I need is to go into a room full of fuming people with the power to kill me with a flick of a switch.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen and Byron obtains the longest time for a tribute to see the gamemakers. After twenty five minutes my name is called, I feel stares on me as I walk across the dining hall. I walk through the doors of the training room and see a huddle of gamemakers at the end of the room.

They do not resemble others of the Capitol with brightly coloured features. Instead their features are sharp, some with razor cut hair that forms perfect shapes, some with facial hair in bizarre patterns and one whose eyebrows are perfect triangles. They all wear red robes with the same sharp shapes and patterns embroidered on.

Even their gazes are sharp and penetrating as they watch me, now is the time to show them what kind of a tribute I am.

"Tori Yates, district 3 female tribute?" asks a woman in the front with dark hair trimmed so straight a ruler was probably used. I nod nervously, she scribbles something on her clipboard and gestures at the room around us.

If I am to impress them I should walk across to the obstacle course, throw some knives, tie some knots and maybe forage through the plants.

Instead I head over to the spears and throw them at the targets. I'm not great at this so they either hit the floor or the outer edges. Good, I'm not horrible and I'm not good. I'm average. I'm forgettable.

I lift weights next in the corner, I'm not very strong as to be impressive but I'm not weak enough to achieve a low mark. While I do this I catch the eye of one of the game makers he has a triangular beard and his head is shaved so that it forms a pattern where the hair is. His robes are purple and his hair is inky black.

It's his eyes that shock me the most, they are cold blue, piercing and unforgiving. Eyes that feel like they can stare into my soul and chill me to the bone. I'm frozen in place then I drop the weight that I was putting down and it drops onto my foot. I gasp back a curse or a moan and stumble to the rope section trying to forget the heartless look of the man sending children to their deaths. His purple robes suggest a position of power, maybe the boss of the others. It sickens me that he is the one in charge but then again who better as a gamemaker?

I fumble with the knots with it slipping frequently out of my hands which are steadily becoming more and more clammy. I am aware of every eye in the room on me, breathing calmly and with the rhythmic feel of the knots I manage to regain control.

What I would love to do is set up the intricate trap the instructor showed me how to make that grabs a target round the neck and winches them up, breaking their necks in the progress. Instead I make the simple noose that would be used on an already captured victim.

I don't venture near the assault course as I know the adrenaline that surges through me when I near it and know I won't be able to contain my developed skill.

The woman who spoke in the beginning walks forward. "Thank you Tori Yates, District Three tribute, you are dismissed." She gestures to the door opposite the one I entered through. Outside is another elevator that I take to floor three.

I make my way back to my room, fiddling with my bracelet. It was all perfect; I was getting a decent score until I messed up when the head person stared at me. I don't know how they are going to score it but I'm pretty sure that almost breaking your toes dropping a weight is not a good way to start. Then I will be at the bottom and the careers will think they can kill me off early.

When I enter the room I see a woman dressed entirely in white with blonde hair in a messy bun.

"Umm hello?" I ask she looks at me and opens her mouth as though to reply but quickly shuts it again. Not before I see though that she doesn't have a tongue. What did the Capitol do to her? She holds out a slip of paper to me and leaves the room.

Tori,

Meet me on the roof. Get the lift to floor 15. Important.

Quentin.

Without thinking about it anymore I rush to the elevator and hit the button for floor fifteen. It opens onto a luscious garden overlooking the Capitol's skyline. I see Quentin, his lilac skin standing out against the clean white of the roof. I've been on plenty of rooftops but they are normally a dirty grey and covered in bird poo.

He turns around when he hears me. "So how was it?" He asks in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Mediocre." I shrug.

"Good." He replies, "You stay in the background, let them fight it out and win."

"A good theory, let's hope it works." He closes his eyes as though thinking how best to go on. "Quentin?" I ask. "Quentin what is -"

"Byron." He answers. "He plunged his sword in to the dummies naming each one after a gamemaker then verbally assaulted them until he had to be escorted out."

I stand there stunned. I try to form words but none come out. "He's...he's dead." I mutter. Quentin nods.

"And let's just hope that he doesn't take you down with him."


	8. Chapter 8

Quentin and I walk down to the dining room together. When we arrive Jayda is there but Byron's seat is empty.

"He's still out cold." Quentin whispers in my ear as we sit down so quiet that Jayda can't hear, no doubt she would not want me to know about Byron. As though me not knowing would spare me from the gamemakers fury.

We eat in silence, Jayda's attempt at getting me to talk about what happened in my session with the gamemakers having utterly failed. I have put on a few more pounds since arriving here from the rich food, I don't know how it will be in the arena when I am back to having virtually no food but I'm not looking forward to it.

At the end of desert Quentin and I follow Jayda into a room down the hallway. It is smaller than the others but still luxuriously decorated; one entire wall is taken up by a TV screen and several large brown sofas take up most of the room.

I settle myself on the sofa and the screen turns itself on, viewing is mandatory and Jayda told me that Capitol TVs are designed to turn themselves on for broadcasts. Tamsin Mundow, the Hunger Games announcer is on TV telling the audience how the scoring will work. I notice she has bright pink, ten inch nails, what next? Whiskers and Talons? It wouldn't surprise me, the things they find beautiful here, always trying to have something new.

The seal of Panem appears and the national anthem plays. After that a picture of each tribute appears along with their name and is then branded with their score. The male tribute appears first. Sterling gets an eight and Destiny and Kairo get a nine, the girl from two gets a seven. My hands start shaking and Quentin gives me a reassuring smile but I can tell he is worried about Byron's score.

Byron's face and name appear and the score is...ten. He beat all of the careers; Jayda looks just as puzzled as I feel whereas Quentin nods slightly as though it was what he had expected. I'm next and receive a modest six, Jayda starts telling me that it's still good but I'm unbelievably happy. Quentin winks to me as this was the exact score that we were aiming for.

After that the rest of the tributes scores are shown in a steady stream of results. A few stand out to me, Farrah, the girl from four, gets a ten like Byron, Riley gets a five and Dennis receives a seven. Tyrell gets a three which is the lowest mark, this makes me smile, tiny Riley beat him, that is unless he has a similar technique to mine which to be honest I highly doubt.

When it's finished the seal of Panem reappears and Tamsin is back discussing the hopefuls to win and the odds on each player. Jayda stands up and addresses us both.

"Well I'm going to my room, tomorrow we practice for the interview, you must be so excited, I'm going to teach you how to walk and sit! Ohhh you're going to look like an actual lady!" And she shimmies off.

"Well I'd better go and check on Byron" Quentin says and he too leaves. I'm left sitting in the room alone. The day after tomorrow is the interview and then the arena and then ultimately my death. Probably. I didn't feel scared before I saw the scores, I know I tried to do average but I really didn't expect everyone else to do so well.

Biting my nails I head for my room, no point losing sleep over the inevitable.

I wake to three sharp raps on my door, Jayda telling me that I have a very important day ahead. I figure that seeming as I don't have to do any training today I can wear whatever I want from the wardrobe.

I decide to try the automated clothes selector but when it sends me bright orange leggings and a pink and green spotted poncho I decide to just throw on some navy jeans and a long sleeved white top.

I head down the hall to breakfast when Quentin appears grabs my arm and turns me around leading me to our training room instead. I begin to question but he just shakes his head.

When we enter the room I see that it has been edited so that it instead has smooth plastic chairs and a wooden coffee table. Quentin takes a seat and I take the one opposite him. He slides along a note.

We are being watched. Distancing you from Byron might just save your life.

"That's the menu, we're eating breakfast here, just say aloud anything you want and it'll be brought to you." He says, oh yeah, we're being watched.

"Toast." I say loudly, knowing it'll be available. A circle in the table opens and a large plate of toast and different spreads appears. I start eating a plain slice, not really that hungry, an empty feeling in my stomach. I'm too nervous already; surely the stress ought to begin in the arena.

"So I will be running through some interview questions with you and later you'll have etiquette sessions with Jayda. So I'm thinking you want to remain uninteresting to the other tributes but you do need sponsors at some point."

The morning goes quickly, so does the afternoon to be fair, it was just a bit tedious. When I go to bed that night I'm even more nervous and lay awake for hours, at home I would read to calm myself down but all the books here are uninteresting, about people who lose their wigs. In fact it feels like only seconds after I've fallen asleep Jayda is rapping on my door again.

Everything I eat tastes like cardboard but I force it down anyway seeming as tomorrow I enter the arena. Byron collects me from breakfast with Quentin throwing me a pitiful look as I go.

The prep team have a fit when they see me. Kalia actually looks on the verge of tears.

"What is...that?" She asks, pointing at my face. I turn into the mirror and see the red bumps that have collected on my forehead.

"Urgh, spots?" stress induced probably. They all suddenly look intrigued.

"Ohh that's what they look like!" giggles Talia, "I've only ever seen pictures. We all drink a serum everyday from the age of ten. Nobody here gets spots!" she explains dabbing a clear liquid on my forehead and I literally watch them disappear.

They then start on their usual routine of waxing and moisturising, they make me stick this goo on my teeth that makes them whiter, still at least no surgery this time. My hair is curled again only this time it is swept into an intricate knot at the back of my head so that only two curls frame my face.

Then they do my makeup, lightest blue eye shadow so that it looks like my eye lids shimmer, pale pink lip gloss and black eyeliner and mascara, which again make my eyes stand out but in a less obvious way. My teeth look really white.

I'm then told to close my eyes as Byron pulls the dress over my head. I open my eyes and am genuinely shocked, I have never looked so absolutely gorgeous, I look like someone else but the features are the same. The dress is a pale turquoise and strapless with little silver gems around the waist. The dress swishes the floor around my turquoise heels.

It's the exact colour of my bracelet and Grace's eyes. I choke back tears and focus on the interview tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

I get into the limo with Quentin and Jayda, Byron is nowhere to be seen. Good. We go to the studio where the interview will take place. The tributes are directed into a room backstage where people talk in twos or threes or stand quiet by themselves and looking like they're about to be sick.

Tyrell stands muttering to himself, I think he's going through his answers whereas Dennis and Riley just talk to each other, nervously laughing. The odds are both of them will die, so why is Riley dressed in a princess gown, the Capitol will see her slaughtered and that is entertainment. I choke back tears again. A girl like me will never survive.

I hear some kind of theme music in the distance and know that the show must have started. We are ushered on stage in a line, the crowd cheering, it seems just modest clapping when I appear, none of the enthusiasm shown for the careers and Byron.

We take seats in the corner of the stage as Destiny walks forwards and sits in the chair next to Tamsin. She seems very bubble headed, we don't have many people like her in District Three. The others go quickly and before I know it Tamsin is calling my name.

I push my shoulders back and take the seat that Kairo has just vacated.

"So Tori, a six in training? Not bad is it everyone?" She smiles at the audience and they clap supportingly as though I am their friend. Come on Tori you can do this.

"Thanks." I smile, blushing slightly and ducking my head.

"Well Tori, I think we're all dying to know what your thoughts were when you were reaped. Well, after you came to of course." The audience laugh, so they saw me faint. Yay. I allow myself to giggle a bit too.

"Well I think mostly it was shock, I guess I had just convinced myself that it wouldn't be me. Then I just thought, well, what's done is done I'll just do all that I can and hope for the best." I answer; I rehearsed this question with Quentin.

"So is there any strategy that you will employ in the arena?" She asks, leaning closer.

"Well I haven't really thought that far ahead to be honest, I guess I'll just do what comes naturally to me." So instincts, any smart sponsor will figure that out but hopefully the careers will just think me stupid.

"Well Tori, how do you like the Capitol?" she smiles self-indulgently.

"Oh it's lovely, it's like District Three only brighter and newer. The people are really lovely, they've been so welcoming" Complimenting the audience, they love it, I try not to gag.

"Who came to visit you after the reaping?" she gazes at the audience as though they all want to know. "Your parents I assume?" Uh oh, unexpected question.

"Umm well I umm." I gulp, be honest I think. "No, my parents are dead, well I think they are. I live at an orphanage in District Three, I have for as long as I can remember." She is hanging on my every word so I carry on. "So no, my parents didn't visit. My roommates did, there are four of them."

"What did they say?" Her voice sounds croaky.

"Well mostly they just cried, said they'd miss me."

"So they don't think you will come home." She asks, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Well to be honest I just think they're not used to good things, you soon realise that hope is pointless. You try to distance yourself from it because you know it will only end up hurting you in the end. If they think I will come home then they are trying to convince themselves I won't so that they don't get stung so much if I don't" I see the careers yawn and whisper as though my interview is boring them.

I don't care much. I've never really spoken about the orphanage much before; when I was younger I used to sit by the window every day, hoping my Mother would come walking down the road and get me. I soon learned not to, the excitement when you see somebody and it's someone else's parent. Best not to get your hopes up, I used to fall asleep crying.

"And who else?" she whispers, her pink eyelashes wet with tears.

"My best friend, Conner and a little girl from the orphanage, Grace," I say. "They are like a family to me," I decide to play the orphanage thing for as much as it's worth "well they're the closest thing to a family that I've got."

"And what," She gulps, "what did they say?"

"Well they told me to try my best, said that they believed in me." I shake my head as though it's too emotional which to be honest it is.

"And what else?"

"Well they made my token," I wave my arm "its Grace's ribbon and Connor made it."

"That's so sweet."

"It means a lot to me, they mean a lot to me. I love them both and I can't thank them enough for all that they've done for me." It's the words I couldn't find to write, but it sounds write being said, this interview is my goodbye.

"That's so beaut-" She is cut short by a loud buzzer which seems to bring her back to reality. "Well thank you Tori but that's all we have time for." Wiping her tears on her hand, "Ladies and Gentleman I give you Tori Yates of District Three." I smile and return to my seat to louder applause than I received when I entered.

Riley looks as though she was crying, luckily the careers just look bored. The rest of the interviews go quickly. Farrah talks in detail about how she spears fish at home and how she will simply be seeing the other tributes as fish in a stream, waiting to be caught and killed. Byron sits hostile and doesn't answer a single question. Riley is so nervous she barely finishes a sentence.

Maybe some sympathetic sponsor will pity me but I just feel like I'm in a kind of trance to be honest, only once I've said it out loud do I feel like I'm realising how horrible the orphanage was, the starvation, the beatings, the filthy clothes, the disgusted looks from the people of District Three. Well one way or another the Hunger Games allows me to escape.

I grasp my seat with my hands, chipping my moss coloured nails, I feel like I'm losing control of everything, my breath becomes slow and deep. I close my eyes and try not to think of anything, I was wishing for my life to go back to how it was but now I feel horrified at the thought. What I'm wishing for is a new life, but that's impossible.

From somewhere I hear the theme music and it seems to register that I need to stand up and leave. I follow Kairo off stage and somehow find myself in the limo. Quentin asks if I feel okay and I feel myself nod. I feel like my brain's about to explode.

We pull up outside the training centre and enter the building. I find it impossible to breathe and climb into the elevator and go to my room, I sit on the bed, just sit on my bed and wait for my head to clear but it just gets more and more crammed. Suddenly it's like all of the air has been sucked from the room. And I'm running.

Maybe if I keep running I can escape from this. If I just keep on running, maybe I can escape from everything. I feel breeze on my face, maybe I'm on the roof? I don't know I can't see properly, everything's blurred like I don't have my glasses on, of course I haven't had that problem since I came here.

Tomorrow I go into the arena. Tomorrow I die. Tonight I will have nightmares. Today I said goodbye. I miss everyone so much. I want to go back. I don't want to go back. I can't think straight, all of the thoughts just swirl around in my head.

I kick of my heels and my dress swishes around my ankles, I stumble forwards and my toes curl around the edge of something. The wind blows harder around my face and I feel my hair groan against its bands and clips. It doesn't roar loud enough, it seems too artificial and far too warm; I want it to hit my face like the roof in District Three. To knock some sense into me.

There's a ringing in my ears, my head pounds and I feel the rush of blood round my body. One more step and all of this will be over, one more step and I can think clearly again. Yes, that will work. So I jump.

I'm falling for about a second before I hear a zap and begin to rise again. I'm slammed into the concrete on the roof, my dress torn. My head seems to have finally stopped ringing and I can think clearly again. I take a shaky breath.

I can't believe I just did that. Just thinking of Grace and Connor is enough to make me seriously question my sanity. There's a force field, we learnt about them in year two at school, that one's reflective, see through but bounces back. Still, the roof could be made of pillows I think, rubbing my leg where I landed.

I stand up and nothing really hurts. It appears the Capitol has to have tributes. I grab my shoes and half walk, half run to my room. I get into bed before realising that I will probably get no sleep tonight as tomorrow I enter the arena. After showering, plaiting my hair and whatever other activities I can think to do I just lie in bed and wait for sleep that will probably never come.


	10. Chapter 10

I think it was about three o'clock when I finally got to sleep and the clock says it's seven thirty when Jayda wakes me. Today is the day. I take a long shower, using the cleaning cycle that's strong but has the weakest smell. Who knows if there will even be water in the arena.

I get dressed into some denim shorts and a vest top as I will be given the arena outfit

I walk down to breakfast which is very awkward, everyone just stares at their food, and Byron still isn't eating with us. I eat a bit of toast but soon fill nauseous, I may not live to see dinner. Instead I sit there sipping water as I don't want to be dehydrated.

After breakfast Jayda says goodbye and she actually seems sad to see me go and I guess in a weird way I'll miss her too. Quentin accompanies me to the launch bay where he looks at me with tears in his eyes.

"Quentin, I'll-"

"Don't say goodbye because you're coming out and you're coming out alive. Now remember, there'll be some sort of pile of food and weapons. Run from it, run and don't look back. Just keep running and hide." It's odd how his words echo mine from yesterday only his are running to survival.

"Quentin," I smile even though it's the last thing I want to do, my hands are visibly shaking, "how are you going to mentor the games every year if you care this much?"

"Exactly why you need to win, then you get this job." He says seriously. The helicopter blades start to whir and I can see Blake getting on.

"Well, I'll see you soon. Hopefully." I say and I feel like crying, I didn't realise how close I'd gotten to Quentin, I guess he's like a father to me in only a week but if there's anyone, any adult rather, that I'd rather trust with my life it's him.

"That's right you will. Keep running Tori." He says and leaves.

I turn to the helicopter and climb the steep ramp, as soon as I enter, the door shuts and the sound from the blades disappears. A Capitol attendant points me to a room to my right which I enter to see what looks like a lounge the size of our floor at the orphanage.

Blake is sitting in one of the comfy arm chairs. I sit opposite him and am met immediately by a Capitol worker with a needle.

"Your tracker, honey! For when you're in there! That's how we know where you are so that the cameras can find you!" She says, beaming. She jabs it in my arm and I feel a sharp pinch as the tracker goes in.

"So Tori," starts Blake, "are you excited? And I get to go all the way to the Arena with you. When we get there we see your outfit and get you ready and" I drone Blake out as I normally do, occasionally smiling and nodding.

I sit there sipping water and my stomach churns. Every minute I sit there we get closer to the arena and ultimately my death. Many different scenarios fill my head, a desert in drought, frozen expanses with no cover, a swamp for people to drown. The arena could be anything.

After about half an hour I think Blake realises that I'm not really listening and settles himself by reading magazines with grotesque people in strange fashions on the front. I twist my bracelet; I do this often to remind myself of home.

The helicopter begins to land and my hands feel clammy. I stumble to the door just as we land and I walk down the ramp. We are led down corridors lined by peacekeepers and into a small room underground. Above me is the arena, I grip my bracelet tighter.

Blake comes in after me, his purple coat swishing behind him, in his arms a black dry cleaner bag. I'm guessing that's my outfit.

"Ready?" He asks he seems excited. He opens it to reveal khaki combat trousers, a brown t-shirt and a thick black jumper with a hood. In a box next to it are large black boots and thick green socks.

"Well?" I ask hoping the outfit gives some indication of the arena.

"Well the trousers and t-shirt are quite thin which means it could be hot but the jumper is thermal so that means cold. The boots are sturdy, thick sole so hard terrain and the socks are thick so again they'll keep you warm but then why are the trousers and shirt so thin? Hmm." I glare at him, is that it, is that all he can tell me?

I get dressed in it anyway; the boots seem to be moulded to my feet. Blake ties my hair up into my usual ponytail only making sure that none of it falls into my face.

"Oh! The colours! They might be camouflage so that would mean...green jelly babies? So you're going to at least have food!" Blake squeals incredibly happy with himself.

"Or it could be trees, like in a forest." I say humouring him.

"Good one or it could be all water only the water could have some green dye in it! And then in the Arena you'd just be swimming around all green!" He is actually being serious. I don't even bother to try and mask my eye roll.

A voice overhead tells me that I need to stand on the circular disk now. I walk over, this is it. My palms are sweating and I feel dizzy but I manage to pull myself together. I have to stay strong, especially now. I place my feet on the disk.

"Oh and Tori! Let the Odds favour you! Wait no that's not it. In your favour shall the odds ever be! Wait that's not it eith-" Blake's cut off by the plastic tube that is rising around the disk at my feet. There is this suction feeling as all sound is cut off. All I can hear is the steady beat of my heart and the disk moves slowly upwards.

The disk clicks into place and I hear a booming voice overhead.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the first ever Hunger Games begin!" Sixty seconds, that's all I have, if I go a second earlier I'll get blown to pieces. My heartbeat is keeping count for me. I slowly look around, surveying the Arena.

In the middle is a large cornucopia filled to the brim with weapons, food and other objects. Each of the other tributes stand on a disk in a large circle around the cornucopia. I'd say we're about a hundred metres from it.

Byron is about five plates around from me; his eyes are set on the bounty at the cornucopia. If I wasn't watching him I wouldn't have noticed, his plate gives a barely perceptible tilt and Byron stumbles forwards, to be blown to pieces. Twenty Three contestants left.

I look around at the rest of the arena, we are surrounded by hedges all the way along the circle, and every now and then there are some gaps in them leading to paths. Each of these paths is littered with objects, down one to my left there is food, the one to my right there are weapons.

In short the arena is a maze, which will make hiding hard. I turn to face the path nearest me, which is behind me. I see a few others turn to paths though most focus on the cornucopia. The path in front of me is littered with supplies, mostly back packs. I ignore the thought of the hammock in the cornucopia and focus instead on a dull grey bag.

I get into position to flee, my head seems cloudy again. I think the gamemakers are rising the temperature to what it would normally be this time of day meaning this is going to be a very hot arena. I stretch out my hands ready to run down the path.

10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. A gong sounds and the Hunger Games begin.


	11. Chapter 11

_Run, _I think and spring myself off of the plate, my feet hitting the hard terrain. My legs move faster than they ever have before, I stretch them out, my stride widening so that I cover more distance than normal in a shorter time.

In fact I'm halfway to the start of the maze before most people have left their plates. Now though I hear the pounding of feet and know that at least two other people have chosen this entrance. I propel myself forwards even more, half sprinting, half leaping to the entrance.

I'm so close to it now, but there are people hot on my tail. I spot the grey backpack that I wanted but my momentum takes me too far forwards and I'm not going to stop to pick it up. Instead I bend low whilst still running and snatch a slightly larger rucksack and a black draw string bag.

The hedges are about twenty feet tall and seem to block the sun so that we are blasted into the shadows. I keep running, Quentin's words playing repeatedly in my head _Keep running Tori, Run and don't look back._ So that's what I do.

I reach a fork and turn left; the foot steps behind me fade so I assume that they turned right. That's when I hear it, the first scream, loud, high pitched and girly but short lived. I resist the urge to shut my eyes as I do when people shriek at the orphanage. This is different; it was the last noise she ever made. I gulp and carry on running as her screech signifies that weapons have been reached.

I make a right at the next turn so that I constantly have the cornucopia to my back. A couple of times I reach a dead end and sharply turn around again. It feels like hours later but from the position of the sun it's been little more than half an hour.

Sweat is pouring off of me and, deciding that I shouldn't be losing so much water, I allow myself to stop and pull off my fleece. I shove it in the drawstring bag and manage to, just about, get that bag into the rucksack. Now I only have one bag to carry and feel significantly cooler.

I break into a sprint again, telling myself that I'll look at what the rucksack contains later. My legs groan telling me to stop or to at least go slower but I can't because every now and then I hear the sound of footsteps, there have been no cannons yet which means the blood bath is either still going on or that they are still picking up the bodies. I think of Byron and feel it might take a while.

I estimate the cornucopia to be on my left so turn sharply to my right only to be knocked off of my feet. I look up at the person I collided with whilst rubbing my head. They're still lying spread-eagled on the ground but is hastily getting up.

They turn round and I see it is Tyrell who is hastily reaching for his belt in which I see the glint of a sword. I stumble back looking as his hands grab the handle. I am frozen by fear, unable to move. This is it, this is how I die. The swords almost out of his belt now, the blade reflects the sun, it looks very, very sharp. I reach for my bracelet, clinging on to those I love till my last breath, but we are both frozen as we hear footsteps coming from the distance, and not just one pair.

I look into his pale green eyes, a look of mutual understanding and horror. The only group that large was the careers.

"Run." I whisper, completely forgetting that a moment ago he was trying to kill me, this threat is much bigger. He turns and runs in the direction he was heading before we collided and I run in the opposite direction.

My footsteps are considerably lighter than Tyrell's so I'm hoping that they may chase him instead, he at least has a weapon. My heart is pounding more now than it was when the games began. Thinking of it, Tyrell was closest to the entrance in the maze with the weapons so he may not actually be that talented and may not have even had to have entered the blood bath.

I realise that what I desperately need is to get somewhere I can open my bags and see what I have to work with in case I meet anyone again. And the careers must have entered the maze at least twenty minutes after me which means that they must have taken a shorter way through the maze to reach this point.

I could walk around all day and be nowhere closer to the end. So finding somewhere to hide is of the utmost importance right now. I can't hear their footsteps anymore so they must have lost me. I breathe a sigh of relief and notice the stitch in my side for the first time.

I slow down my sprint into a jog, really taking in the inside of the maze and not just its distance from the cornucopia. I stay alert though and on the balls of my feet in case I need to make a quick escape.

The dead ends, I notice, are not empty as I first thought when my only thought was to run away from them. The first one I go down has a pit full of snakes. I am glad I decided to slow down as I could easily have fallen in.

As I continue, the sun rises higher and the temperature increases. It gets really hot at home in the high rise buildings but we at least have basic air conditioning. This is scorching to the point where I just want to lie down. Luckily the hedges provide some shade as I get sun burnt very easily.

I don't hear anyone else's footsteps or see a trace of anyone throughout the next couple of hours. Boom. I suddenly stop, the first cannon, Byron. Boom. The girl who screamed. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. They stop, that's odd, from the amount of time it took for the cannons to start I was expecting more.

Still, nine down and there are fifteen people left. I gulp, with the arena like this I could run into other tributes at any moment. Suddenly the need to explore my pack is overwhelming and I go in search of dead ends, deciding that these will contain the best hiding places.

A few contain trees bearing fruit, which all though handy, and I do pick a couple of apples for later, do not provide much coverage. Some are empty and others contain animal burrows, crops and a few that I'm certain contained traps waiting to be released.

At last, at what I estimate to be about four o'clock I find one that contains a large berry bush. The berries are poisonous and they are one of the first ones that you learn are poisonous so I am unlikely to be disturbed. I climb behind it with much more ease than I first thought possible. I duck, even though it is a two metre high bush and am about to take off my bag before I see that there appears to be a large hole in the bush at the bottom.

It could be the ideal place so I shove my bag in and climb back round to the front to see if it is visible but it is completely hidden. The bush is fairly thick and the hole is closer to the back. I climb back around and into the hole. It's a small fit but in a comfortable way, I feel safer than I have done for the whole of my time in here.

Sunlight leaks in through a few gaps in the foliage and I open the bag. I pull out my fleece and put it back on as the evening has brought with it a slight chill. I then extract the draw string bag and rummage through the rucksack. The first thing that I find is a torch and a smile crosses my face, this will make it easier to explore the rest of the items.

I flick the switch and shine it into the bag just to see it be reflected back again. I pull out a plastic blanket, soft on one side but bumpy and reflective on the other. It seems water proof and will reflect my body heat; I notice that I would not be able to reflect light as it would be refracted. The things we're taught at school seem ridiculous but the thought of my home district is comforting.

A blanket and a torch, this pack is brilliant. I reach in one more time and pull out a foil bag full of granola bars. These will keep for a while so I put them back in the bag but keep the blanket and torch out. Next I pick up the drawstring bag; I'm glad the rucksack is brown as it camouflages in with the ground but this bag is black and will stick out during the day.

I yelp in pain as I reach my hand in, quickly pulling it out again in time to see a trickle of blood run across my finger. I stick my finger in my mouth to numb the pain and fumble with my other hand to find the torch, flicking the switch I shine it in the bag to see to metal handles. Pulling my hand out of my mouth I gently take them out the bag and examine them. My heart leaps in joy, knives, two knives. A grin breaks out across my face as I examine them.

One is long and sharp, perfect for throwing. The other is long and sleek, pointed at the end and with razor sharp beauty to it. It looks more like a dagger to me but I can't help but think it has a kind of twisted beauty as the handle reflects the light. I stow them in my belt and search the rest of the bag. I find a wire for snares, a water bottle and a jar of powder which I recognise as the iodine we have to add to our water at home to make it safe to drink.

I put it back in the bag and open the water bottle. It's full. I take three hearty gulps before stowing it back in the bag. I got the best items imaginable, in here is my survival. I pull an apple from my pocket and bite into it, letting the juice explode in my mouth. That's when I hear the national anthem and poke my head out the hole to see the screen in the sky with the seal of Panem on.

This will show us the dead tributes. The first photo is a brutal picture of Byron, meaning that the tributes of One and Two have survived. Next is the boy from Five who looks about fourteen. Then Tyrell and I can't help feeling a little sad as though if it wasn't for him the careers may have gone after me. I know this doesn't make sense as he tried to kill me and would have killed Riley and Dennis is he got the chance.

The next person is the girl from Six, the girl from Eight, boy from Nine, and the girl from Ten. I let out a cry of despair as Riley's face fills the screen. The fallen princess, and the citizens of the Capitol probably cheered on her murderer. Both tributes from twelve and then the seal of Panem.

I finish my apple and have a few more sips of water; I pull my blanket up to my chin and curl up on the ground, hidden from the others. From a distance I hear the howl of a coyote and snuggle deeper into the blanket. The careers will hunt through the night so I will travel in the morning whilst they sleep. I find myself falling asleep, tired from the night before and rest in the darkness, safe in my dreams.


	12. Chapter 12

I wake with a jolt as I hear the cannon blast. My heart pounding, I listen intently for any sound of approaching careers, footsteps or voices but no sound comes. It's dark outside and I have a groggy feeling in my head so I imagine that I've only been asleep for around two hours. I rest my head back onto the rucksack that I am using as I pillow and go back to sleep.

When I wake in the morning the sunlight is streaming through the gaps in the leaves. It looks to be just past dawn. My stomach grumbles, not used to the absence of the Capitol food. I have another apple but it doesn't sit well, I really need some protein.

I climb out of the hole, my knives strapped securely into my belt and my rucksack on my shoulder, everything including the fleece stuffed inside. I wince as the sunlight hurts my eyes, I am unbelievably happy with what I got, especially as I didn't think I'd get anything but I can't help hoping for some sunglasses.

Instead I edge close to the hedge, leaving the bush and checking round corners. When I reach the end of this line I notice a trail of food, dried fruit and nuts. These probably came from the cornucopia, meaning that the careers left them. I have the urge to grab and start eating some of the nuts but think better of it, knowing that they could be poisoned.

That gives me an idea; I run back to the bush and pick many of the berries, filling the pockets on my legs. I run back to the trail of food, scattering some berries every now and then in case a desperate tribute gets hungry.

It feels a bit deceptive but it's the only way I will get out, and I'd much rather work this way than plunging swords into people's stomachs. I decide to follow the careers trail in the direction away from the cornucopia as they had the whole night to get closer to the edge of this maze.

I hear birds chirping from within the bushes and catch the occasional wing of birds. I scratch my arm and look closer to the bushes. They look a bit like jabberjays, the Capitol tried to use them to gain information from the rebels but it failed miserably, we worked out pretty quickly what they were and told the rebels in the other districts.

I say we, of course I just mean the rebels, I was never part of it. I scratch my arm more ferociously but these birds look slightly different, like they could be half jabberjay. We don't get many birds in District Three, that's one of the reasons we knew there was something odd about the birds.

I keep walking, following the trail, deeper into the maze or closer to the edge. I look down at my arm and see a collection of small red bumps that I have been absent-mindedly scratching. Insect bites, probably, and their beginning to sting rather than itch now.

I straighten my arms by my side and clench them into fists, determined to not scratch them as I know it will only make them worse. I keep catching myself trying to scratch my neck, arms and cheek where red bumps have appeared. In the end I take my knife out of my belt, leaving the dagger securely in there. Holding it seems to give my hands something to do.

The birds are chirping more now as morning approaches more forcefully. My eyes flit around the hedges as I know that more and more tributes will wake up. I've been walking for about half an hour when I reach a spot in the trail.

Blood is splattered around it and on the hedges to look as though the victim was trying to escape. I recall the cannon that woke me last night and with a gulp I step carefully around it. I decide to deviate away from the trail now, feeling guilty about using the careers trail to my advantage.

I keep walking for the next few hours, there have been no cannon fires so I guess my berry trail failed, I probably should have chosen some less obviously poisonous berries. I find a bush with some sashberries on which are extremely poisonous. Small and blue with the thinnest of green stripes round the centre of the berry that you can only see when you look for it. They often get confused with blueberries until you break them open and the blue appears florescent.

I pick a pocketful and keep walking, hoping to find some use for them. Sweat drips from the back of my neck as temperatures soar, my water bottle is almost empty and at this rate I could be dehydrated by tomorrow.

A cannon blasts overhead and I stop suddenly wondering what could have happened. The birds in the hedges whistle a kind of buzzing hum and a hovercraft materialises overhead, about fifty metres away from me. I stand frozen wondering if their attacker is about to come round the corner, I clutch my knife tighter.

A hook is lowered to the ground and picks up a bloody carcass. I shudder but focus more on my current problem as nobody can help that poor child now.

No noise comes though and my heart beat gradually begins to come back down, having rocketed at the sound of the cannon. I think about turning around and trying a different route but curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself stumbling towards where the hovercraft appeared.

I edge round to the end of this path and peer round the corner of the hedge. All that I see is a dead end splayed with broken items. I look around before stepping in. I find what I'm looking for about three quarters of the way down I see two dark green clips, barely an inch tall in the hedge that I wouldn't have seen if I hadn't been searching.

If I had passed it then I would break the trigger of those clips and set off a pod. At the end of the path is a small pond which suggests why it was first ventured down. Past the clips there are splatters of blood and as I realise in horror, a few small chunks of flesh. Whatever the pod releases I know I don't want to find out.

Instead I focus on what's before the clips; there are many broken items which suggests that the victim was a career. I walk forward and rummage through the items, finding shredded food wrappers, smashed pots and fragments of plastics.

In amongst it though I do find a few useful things and I spend the next couple of hours rifling through the debris. I come away with an extra water bottle, an extra knife, a pair of plastic sunglasses and perhaps the best item, insect repellent spray.

I shove them into some of the side pockets of my rucksack and walk away, the beaten dirt hard underneath my shoes and the sun blisteringly hot once more.

I hear a pounding noise and this time instead of freezing I reach for one of the three knives at my belt and grab the one that is best for throwing. I hear the pounding noise again, this time followed by a light, girly laugh.

I grip the handle tighter and edge closer to the shade of the hedge. There is a slight babble as someone speaks but I can't make out any specific words. I could run but I could end up in a dead end. Two figures turn the corner, girls about my age. I recognise them as the girls that I spoke to on the first day of training, from Five and Nine.

They see me and stop, District Nine holds a long spear like object but with a curved blade at the end, it looks like something to cut crops with, no doubt it will work just as well on my neck. I wonder if she can throw it but instead she starts sprinting towards me, clearly she plans to ram it into me. Her partner from District Five is still fumbling with her slingshot, finding something to put in it. I don't even think about what to do, I throw the knife.

It goes flying through the air and lodges itself in her arm. She yelps, drops the axe, and clutches the wound. She drops to the floor as blood rains down her brown shirt. I avert my gaze from her weeping figure and look instead at the District Nine girl who is still fumbling in her pocket for something to put in her sling shot. I reach to my belt for my dagger, still acting on instinct.

"GO!" yells the girl on the floor, though her voice catches at the end. "Don't be stupid just go!" She screeches and it snaps me back to reality. I look back up to see her blonde curls whipping around the corner.

I walk over to the girl on the floor, my hand shaking as it clutches the dagger. I look at the wound where the knife still sticks. It's deep but it caught the edge of her arm she tries to move it and winces, but at least she can move it. Her feet scramble as though to get away but she's rooted to the spot.

I stand about a foot from her feet, the dagger still in my hand. The blood has stained her shirt, making it glisten a deep maroon colour on one side. Her dark black hair that I last saw dead straight is tied into a braid at her side. Her deep blue eyes glare at me emotionless, my hand shakes more vigorously. She's pretty but I think back to the one conversation we had, she knows it. She reminds me of the cliques at school who think they are better than you because their Dad invented a musical chip, even though they are only interested in the invention in lipstick.

They can't afford it anyway, they make do with homemade versions out of crushed berries. I remember how the peacekeepers laugh at them and talk about how pathetic the people of our district are, they act like they're from the Capitol but most are from District Two, though we aren't supposed to know that.

I stare at the knife wound, then at her throat and then her ribs, where her heart beats. It would be so easy, and I feel the blade of the dagger. One hit to the vein in her neck and she wouldn't know what had happened. But then, why haven't I acted? Why am I still here thinking about how to do it?

The answer hits me and I realise that it's because I physically can't. The seconds tick by and I finally make move. I grab the knife out of her arm and she gasps in pain. The blade drips her warm, sticky blood onto my hand but I don't care because I'm running. Run before she picks up her weapon and run before I realise what I've just done.


	13. Chapter 13

I keep running without thinking, faster than I've ever done in my life. Making the sound of my heart beating drown out the thoughts that are beginning to resurface. The ones where I realise that I can't possibly get out of this arena because I'm not fast enough, strong enough or ruthless enough. This is the place I will die.

I've never been scared of death before, always assumed that when the time comes I'll be ready but now I'm in here, the place where I should accept my imminent death, I realise that I truly don't want to die.

I wipe a tear away from my cheek before realising that it was the hand that held the knife and my face is now smeared with the girl's blood. I feel it on my hands and face, I feel dirty and tainted, like if I don't get off and soon it will mark me forever. It seems to be weighing me down, I've had so little water today, barely anything to eat and I'm near to collapsing.

My feet are moist in my shoes and my hands sweat over the dried blood, the knife is lodged in my belt with the others which are probably also coated in blood. I need water; my bottle has a few sips left.

Just as I'm thinking this my feet take me round a corner and I stop running. I ignore the stitch in my side and the fact that if my heart beats any faster it'll jump out my mouth. I'm looking at something so impossibly out of place in this arena that it could be from a different planet.

It's a dead end but the largest dead end I've seen. At the very end there appears to be a pond, only it's bubbling as though heated. The water shines a crystalline turquoise that appears to really sparkle in places. A river winds its way down from the spring which is slightly up hill till it joins the hedge next to my feet where it disappears, probably underground, to re-open somewhere else in the arena.

Surrounding the water banks are three tall trees that stop just short at the height of the hedges. The leaves are a vibrant green and intertwine with vines to form a labyrinth of beautifully shaded green that hides the trunk from view about half the way up. The trunk that can be seen from the bottom is so smooth it could be polished and it reflects some of the light beating down by the sun.

I walk forwards and realise that what I first thought was tall grass is actually foot high crops, runner beans, sweet corn, tomatoes. I dip my hands into the stream just before it meets the hedge and am surprised to find it refreshingly cool, it must have cooled in the hundred feet from the spring, or maybe just controlled by the gamemakers.

I fill my bottle, all thoughts of the fight gone, with the opalescent water and add some of the iodine powder. I leave it for half an hour whilst I use the other bottle that I found earlier to scoop water up and wash my hands, not wanting to contaminate the stream. I make every trace of the blood disappear from my hands as though I could scrub away the memory.

I then start on my knives but the blood won't come away. I grab a handful of leaves off the closest tree and use it to rub the knives. The blood that's still moist has come off but the rest hasn't. The knife and the dagger are both coated in dry red, the knife I found earlier escaped the worst of it but the blade was a dull black to begin with. None of the knives look new anymore. They have been worn by the arena, just as I have.

I drink the bottle of water in three long mouthfuls and fill both up, adding the powder again. I pick a tomato from one of the stalks near me; I had tomatoes for the first time in the Capitol. I squish it in my fingers, letting the green juice run down my hand. They don't appear to be poisonous so I take a tentative bite of another one.

They are just as tangy and sweet as I remember. I decide I like tomatoes very much. I harvest many of the vegetables, trying not to think of the weapon from earlier, the girl from the district of grain who could probably do this job ten times quicker than I.

I leave the collection of fruit and vegetables on my fleece with my bags. I take my knife and cut away some of the vines from the base of the tree. I work quickly winding the vines together the way the instructor told me too, I remember his enthusiastic face when I grasped this concept and imagine him smiling as he watches me work on TV.

I snap a branch down which are long and thin and attach the winded vines onto the end so that I have a basic fishing rod. Walking back to the stream I easily catch two large fish and leave them on two spacious leaves with the rest of my stuff.

I open my rucksack searchingly and find my granola bars. I take the bars out; each is individually wrapped and extract the metal tin that they came in. I take the lid of and fill it with the crops. I take my knife and skin one of the fish; I cut the flesh into chunks so that all that remains are the bones, tail, head and skin.

I put them in the tin with the vegetables and fill the tin with the water that has been purified, put the lid on and walk to the edge of the stream, to the heated spring. I dip my finger in and as I suspected, it is near boiling. I balance the tin in the net of the fishing rod and hold it in the middle of the spring.

I don't know where I learned this recipe only that it seemed to come naturally. I'm not sure when it will be ready so I check it regularly. After two hours it's steaming, the vegetables are soft and the fish has turned pink. It's nearly evening so I pack away the water bottles and wrap the rest of the food in leaves and place it in the front pouch of my rucksack.

I hoist it over my shoulder and use the vines to scale the tree at the end. I hook the bags over some branches and tie myself to a thick branch using some of the vines. I sip the soup straight from the tin, loving the salty warmth of the dish. It seems to restore me and even though it is late in the day, I feel more energetic than I have since being in here.

I can barely eat half the stew before my stomach feels it may burst so I tie it up using some vines, saving it for tomorrow. I pack it in the rucksack, marvelling at the effect a good meal can have. I drink some water as the salty stew has left my mouth feeling parched.

I hear the anthem of Panem and slide out of the tree as it blocks off all light. I look up to see Destiny's face staring down at me from the sky, she was the tribute whose stuff I found, presumably. She's followed by the girl from Seven, whose cannon I heard last night. The seal of Panem and silence.

I feel a pinch on my arm and look down to see a red bump form; I look around and see mosquitoes buzzing closer to the stream. I remember the insect spray in my bag and make my way back to the tree.

It's pitch black in there now that the sun has completely set. I fumble in my bag a and first find my torch. I shine it in the bag and pull out the small bottle with the picture of flies on. The light shines on a small symbol that reads highly flammable. I spray the putrid smelling liquid on my arms, neck and face, rubbing it in thoroughly.

A bitter chill runs over my exposed arms so I pull the fleece over my head and fish out my blanket. I get as comfortable as is possible on the branch and after I wrap the blanket round me to pad the branch, finally relax.

In fact it isn't till I'm falling asleep that I realise I still have blood on my face.

I wake begrudgingly the next day, reluctant to leave this place of peace in the midst of so much chaos. I pack my blanket and fleece away though and slide down the tree. Just as I'm about to leave I turn around and cut a few strands of vine down and shove them in the remaining pocket of my bag, not knowing if it will come in handy but feeling it would be foolish to not takes some with me.

It's a little later than when I left yesterday, due to the light blocking effect of the closely weaved leaves. My two water bottles are filled and my front pouch is full to the brim of vegetables and fish.

I'm getting used to the blaring heat now and after drinking as much water as I could whilst still at the lake I manage to make it a couple of hours without feeling thirsty. The Gamemakers are making it hotter though, I can tell because some of the leaves on the hedge look withered as though it is unnaturally hot for this area.

These hedges block most of the wind, apart from at night so the hot dryness remains unbroken. I keep walking through this maze, wondering whether it will ever end. It must do though as otherwise I would have encountered many more people.

Cracks have appeared in the dry earth so that I stumble occasionally whilst walking. It's hard to believe that I have been in the arena for three days as it seems so much longer, as though fear and anguish is all that I've ever known. I absentmindedly twirl my bracelet, the colour reminds me of Grace and of my interview dress, my goodbye to them.

The day wears on, getting progressively hotter. It's probably midday by now and I catch my shoe on a crack that runs all the way up to the corner of the hedge. As I turn the edge I see it. A large opening at the end of the hedges. The end of the maze.


	14. Chapter 14

It's too far away for me to see what's outside but I don't make an attempt to go closer. As soon as I turned the corner I heard laughter and that's what's keeping me still. The laughter is repeated till all of the people outside are laughing. I back away, for surely that many laughs means the careers.

I duck back behind the hedge hoping that they didn't hear anything, I extract the black knife. I know I can't possibly win but maybe I can take down a few. This knife was obtained because a career fell, they aren't indestructible.

A cannon fires and I can almost feel them look in this direction, towards the maze. I hold my breath, wondering if they will come running. They remain silent though until a boy's voice says,

"Right, thirteen down, ten to go." And the rest laugh. I back away silently and return to the path. There must be another way out, there must be. I keep deluding myself with that thought. Whereas before I was keeping the cornucopia behind me, I am now keeping level with the outer hedge, where I know lays the rest of the arena.

I can feel the heat on my skin as it attempts to beat down the chill that has spread through me since I found the exit. An hour later and I am still on the tips of my toes, clutching my knife. My stomach grumbles and I eat my final apple whilst resting against the hedge.

That was my second encounter with the careers in three days and in three days thirteen people have died. I keep holding onto the thought that there must be another way out, because they wouldn't leave us to the mercy of the careers but realistically they stuck children in an arena to fight for the death, isn't this exactly what they would do?

I look closer at the hedge and pull apart leaves with my hands and eventually try thrashing at it with my knives but it doesn't do much and I give up on my attempt to get through the hedge reluctantly, I turn and keep walking.

The hedges here don't provide as much shade so the sun blares down. I wipe sweat off of the back of my neck, thankful that my ponytail stops just short of the nape. I keep walking, until I need to rest and my tongue feels like sand paper.

I gave up a few hours ago and put on my sunglasses as the sun was giving me poor visibility. It's late afternoon and I'm as far away from the exit as possible in such a short time span. There's no cover here now and I'm desperate to get out.

I see some more mosquitoes and pull out the insect repellent spray. I see the mark on the bottle that shows it is extremely flammable and am overcome by an idea so ridiculous as to be ludicrous but it could work.

I pull out my knives before realising they are coated in matt blood. I dig around in my bag instead hoping beyond reasonable hope to find something reflective and pull out a granola bar. So irritated at the current uselessness of this object I rip it open in fury.

I decide not to waste it and eat the bar which is deliciously sweet. I'm about to put the wrapper away before the inside foil catches my eye as the light bounces off of it. I slit the rest of the glued foil so that it unravels into a small rectangle of single foil.

I turn and face the hedge, finding the weakest part. It's a good thing the gamemakers have been making the sun brighter, hotter and drier. I hold up the insect spray so that it's level with my waist and spray.

I watch the beads of spray collect on the leaves and quickly fumble with the foil. I hold it up so that the light is reflected off and intensified and slowly direct at the leaves. Holding my breath, I watch as the line of light hits the sprayed leaves.

I wait but nothing happens. I hadn't really expected it too but I got carried away with the idea. I let my breath out slowly. Thinking that I will just have to come up with a plan to get past the careers, I start to lower my hands. Only that's when I see the leaves start to smoke.

The tips of the leaves are releasing swirls of light grey smoke which turns clear as it reaches eye level. I watch as small sparks form which burn the leaves away but only char the twigs. I watch as leaf after leave ignites and crumbles into grey ashes. Eventually all the leaves in a small circle close to the edge of the hedge have burnt out creating a small groove in the hedge.

I take out my knife, still coated in blood. And hack away in sweeping motions at the charred twigs to make the hole progressively larger. It's about a third of the way through the depth of the hedge and the hole is about a metre in diameter. Over the next hour I manage to burn and hack my way through to the other side of the hedge.

I stick my head through the hole and climb through effortlessly, landing on the hard ground coated in blades of grass. Grass? I look down at the short green shoots, I run my fingers through them letting their smooth sides caress my fingers. I pluck one of the strands and hold it to my nose inhaling the scent.

_I sat on the small square of grass of the park in District Three. It's the only patch of grass I've seen in the whole District. We'd seen pictures of how it used to be in school, the whole park use to be coated in it and it was one of the main attractions of what used to be called New York._

_Nowadays Central Park was mostly avoided except for young children who came to play on the rusted metal frame work that use to make up a playground. At this time of day it was deserted and Connor and I were sat under a tree on the edge of the park. _

_The sun would be rising soon but we'd got one of the early morning trams for the factory workers. I leant my head back onto the bark of the tree, my fingers weaving their way through the blades on the ground. It had rained recently; I love the smell of wet grass._

_Connor trapped my hand under his, entwining his fingers with mine. His grip so firm, hands so warm, so reassuring. I looked up shocked; we'd never been so close before, I could smell him. Oh God he smelled good._

"_Tori," He said, his voice sounded strong but forced, though this was something he'd rehearsed many times before hand "don't leave." Where was I supposed to be going? We'd only just arrived. His hazel eyes sparkled with emotion as he spoke._

"_Well of cour-"I'd replied, wondering if the early morning was getting to him._

"_No, Tor, I mean when we're older, when the orphanage is far behind us. Just promise we'll be together." He said, staring me right in the eye, a serious look etched on his face. I could see the fear in his face of my answer._

_I nodded, I opened my mouth to say something, about how stupid it was that he would even question that, we were friends, best friends, did he just think that I was just going to abandon him one day? Just up and leave him, never to see me again? I opened my mouth to say all that but instead my lips found his mouth. And none of that seemed to matter anymore._

_That day changed everything; I'd always seen myself as self dependant, reliant on nobody else but me for my own survival. That was the day when I realised that the one person I needed in my life was him. We lay on that grass patch all day, curled in each other's arms. We watched the people walk past, the children play. We'd watched the sun rise and the sun set. _

And now I will probably never see him again. I drop the blade of grass and look up. I stare at a forest, tall closely knit trees all grouped together. My sunglasses rest on my nose making everything seem darker. I feel a splash on my arm, cloudless rain. I would smell the wet grass again.

Only rain doesn't burn and the skin where the rain fell has begun to blister. Something's not right. So I act instinctively and run, straight into the forest as the rain gets heavier.

It's coming down fast now and my skin feels like it's on fire, luckily I have glasses on so I can still see. I'm still holding my knife. I can't take it much longer. Trees surround me so I do the first thing I can think of.

I dive into one of the tall trees, with leaves that tumble down like those of the trees from last night only the whole way down. I would be invisible in there.

In fact, it would be the perfect hiding place from the careers. If it wasn't for the fact that someone else was sitting on a branch right above my head.


	15. Chapter 15

I can hear the rain outside, pounding on the floor, the rain that means certain death but that's the least of my problems right now. I dart across and up the branches, quicker than I thought possible, the knife still clutched in my raw and blistering hands. I'm now opposite the other person in the tree.

A mop of mousy blonde hair covers the top of his face, framing his brown eyes. His face is specked in freckles and his skinny frame is hoisted onto a mass of knotted vines and leaves suspending him slightly from the branch beneath. I let out an inaudible sigh of relief but my hand doesn't slack its grip on the knife. It's Dennis.

My heart beat slows a bit, it may not be a career but I shouldn't underestimate him. His eyes linger on my face for a moment before fixing themselves on the knife in my hand. I look down at it to and feel repulsed, I can't use it. I know I can't.

"I'm not going to kill you." I say simply. I expect him to look relieved but instead he narrows his eyes and looks at my face.

"Why not?" He asks, his voice lower than I expected and quite controlled rather than full of fear as mine would be in his situation. I can't help but respect his calmness in such a situation.

"Because..." I start, how do I finish that? "Because I can't" I answer truthfully. This takes him by surprise and his eyes widen before he quickly furrows his eyebrow again. He stares at me for several long moments and my heart beat speeds up again but he still hasn't reached for a weapon, if he has one. The moments go by like hours and he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"I don't need another ally." And I hear the hurt in his voice. An image of Riley in her interview dress followed by her face, spread across the sky. I understand completely.

"No. No, of course not." I whisper.

"Well what then?" He says, fury rising in his voice. My skin burns but I resist the urge to break eye contact to look at it. Somewhere, thunder crashes but then again it could have been a cannon shot.

"Well we can't go outside." And as I say it the rain pounds down harder as if to illustrate my point.

"Why not? It's only rain." He says looking confused.

"No, it's not." I say and hold out my arms. Even I have to hold onto the branch to stop myself from collapsing in horror. The skin is a bright raw red, with outlines of white circles marking the surface. Occasionally white blisters the size of grapes adorn my arm. It's excruciatingly painful and my eyes water just thinking about it. The pain continues to my neck, face and ears and I know that they too must be covered in the blemishes.

Dennis' eyes widen too as though he has only just noticed, it definitely wasn't that bad when I came into the tree, which means it's getting worse. I look down at my knife in my hand and blink several times in shock. The blade is about half its original size and trickles of silvery-black goo runs down the sides, I let the knife drop to the floor. The rain melted the blade; my eyes meet Dennis', an unspoken message delivered between us. We can't go back out.

"So what if," he starts, clearly shocked "we both stay here, not as allies, we just, you know, don't kill each other?" I nod in response. I look down at my t-shirt, apparently the clothes they gave us are resistant to the acid. Then my backpack, it has a few small tears in it but it was quite thick so it hasn't penetrated all the way through.

A couple moments more though and it would probably have melted like the knife. I probably would have too. Dennis' eyes follow mine to my backpack.

"Is that what you got from the cornucopia?" he asks.

"No, it was down the path nearest me." I reply. Soon we are showing each other what we got. He seems deeply impressed with my bounty. He got away with a clear, plastic, drawstring bag filled with food.

"So was it just food?" I ask, curious.

"No, well mostly, but I also got a water bottle and tablets to purify it and this," he holds up a short blunt knife "I think it was for the bread." He points to the loaf.

After that we talk about our Districts, he's from District Eight, the district of textiles. He tells me about the short cement homes that everyone lives in, the black smog that surrounds the town which is pumped out by the many factories. It doesn't sound the most pleasant of Districts.

He talks about his family, his Dad, older brother and younger sister. His mother, I learn, died giving birth to his sister. He talks about school and what they are taught; it's all so different from the life I lead in District Three.

He tells me next about the Peacekeepers, they don't sound as harsh there. Apparently they all walk around keeping watch over everyone but they don't sound as interfering as ours.

"Once they whipped my brother for trying to sneak some fabric out of one of the factories. He has a scar down his back, do you know anyone that's ever been attacked by the Peace Keepers?"

Well me, I think, several times. I still remembered the first time when I was thirteen.

_They'd kept me late at the factory after one of the machines had malfunctioned. It meant that when I was walking home it was by the light of the street lamps. I had a really bad headache and I just wanted to lie down in bed. Of course I'd have to sneak back in or I'd be in solitary and the beds there aren't nearly as nice as mine. And that's saying something._

_I wasn't really paying attention as, as I said, I just wanted to get back. Two Peacekeepers, one man, one woman, came out of the shadows of the street._

"_So where'd you think you're going so late at night?" Asked the male one, a sneer in his voice. I fumbled with my hands and averted my gaze._

"_Home." I said in what I hoped was a convincing voice._

"_Where've you been?" He asked._

"_My friend's flat." I replied just as quickly. The female one picked at the collar on my oversized, slightly dirty and ripped shirt. _

"_Looks like one of those orphanage brats to me." She said. The male one grinned maliciously. _

"_Well let's get her back then." He laughed, "I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you." No. I suppressed a groan. They were still laughing at my hidden misery. He shoved me forwards._

"_Move." He growled. Instead I shoved him back without even thinking. The woman punched me in the stomach with such force it knocked me to the ground. Pain like I'd never experience before kept me curled on the ground. They both stood there laughing at my pain._

"_Get up!" She shrieked. "Now!" I tried, knowing that more pain would come if I didn't but I honestly couldn't._

"_I can't." I wheezed, still clutching my stomach._

"_Pathetic." She drawled and kicked me hard in the head. I withheld my shriek of pain and she dragged me to my feet, digging her nails into my skin as she did so. The male one came closer._

"_I said move." He growled in my ear and even though every bone in my body was yelling in protest, I forced myself to do what he said. They shoved, pushed and dragged my back to the home, taunting me as we went, trying to get a reaction so that they could cause me more pain. I kept my mouth shut though and even though every step made me want to scream in pain, not a murmur escaped my lips._

_I was beaten by the home workers too, with the belt that they kept for punishment and shoved in the small cell that was solitary. A headache suddenly didn't seem so bad._

That was by no means my worst encounter with them though. I still woke in tears over that one.

_I was walking back from work; I'd even managed to get out a little early. I was wearing a dress that I'd been given that morning. I normally hated dresses but this was really pretty, cream and satiny. I'd probably see it on somebody else when it went in the laundry pile next. My hair band had broken and my hair fell in loose waves._

_I was about fifteen minutes away from the orphanage when it happened. A male peacekeeper pulled me sideways into an ally way. I struggled but he kicked me hard in the shin and stuck his hand over my mouth when I attempted to shriek._

"_Now now," he said, and stroked my cheek whilst holding me up against the rough stone wall of the building behind me. I was frozen in fear, my eyes wide in terror "relax." He cooed sickeningly his hand not leaving my cheek. "I'm still on duty," he winked "and you're not leaving till I get what I want." He finished deadly seriously._

_His hand fell from my cheek, the other still grasping my arm firmly holding me up against the wall. The light didn't reach down here; he was little more than a shadow. His hand fell to my waist, his movement scraped my back against the wall but I still couldn't move, he was too strong for me to get away._

_He reached under my skirt, his hand grazing my thigh. The touch on my bare skin seemed to wake me from my trance of horror. I yanked my arm out of his grip before he was aware of what was happening. My elbow made contact with his face and I heard the crunch of his nose breaking. At the same time my knee came up to his crutch and he doubled over in pain._

_I knew it wouldn't last long though so I ran. I stayed up all night crying._

"No, I don't know anyone." I tell him, holding back tears that are threatening to overspill from my eyes. He looks disappointed as though expecting a dramatic story. However there is one thing I'm dying to know and I don't think I'm going to be able to suppress it any longer.

"How did Riley die?" I ask. I know it's insensitive of me but I really need to know. He doesn't look taken aback, just like he knew this was going to come up. He waits a moment before speaking.

"It was at the cornucopia, she was about five plates round from me. We'd agreed we'd run and meet up afterwards. Only I think when she saw it was a maze she panicked. I ran to path nearest me, with food. She should have gone to the path by her, with medicines, first aid kits and stuff like that. Only she didn't, she ran across to the path I was at with the food, I didn't realise till I reached the foot of the path. I tried to tell her to go back because people had reached the weapons. But someone shot an arrow through her heart. It was the girl from four. Why didn't she run?"

He shakes his head as though to clear his thoughts and I squirm uncomfortably. The movement sends pain, the kind I've never felt before to go shooting through my body. My hand reaches my mouth just in time as I let out an uncontrollable scream. The hand muffles the sound but it's a good thing it's still raining outside or someone may have heard it.

"Are you alright?" Dennis asks, looking concerned. I sit there panting as my skin feels like it's on fire. I hear a pound outside and look to Dennis, I see a mirror of my expression of horror as our eyes widen in fear.


	16. Chapter 16

Something comes tumbling through the leaves with a parachute attached with a large number three on which means it's for me. I lean over slightly in an attempt to catch it but pain shoots through my body and I shudder though I manage to hold in a scream.

Dennis gets up and climbs over to hand me the parachute.

"Thanks." I say, he shrugs in response. It looks like a tube of sun cream that some of the richer people back home could buy but why would Quentin send me that when it was raining. I looked closer but there was no label on it. I opened it slowly, trying to make it as painless a task as possible.

When I squeezed it some white cream came out and landed on my hand. Where it landed a numbing sensation spread, sending a cool relief flooding over me. Medicine for the skin burns. I rubbed it over all the places where the skin had been burned and felt better than I had done in days.

"I haven't had anything, is that the first thing you got?" Dennis asks a hint of jealousy in his voice. I nod in response and he looks a little happier. It's nearly evening now and Dennis' stomach rumbles. He pulls out a few cereal bars and I can't help but interject.

"Are you going to eat all of those?"

"Yes. Why?" He looks suspicious, like I am after his food.

"Well it's just that the rain has probably poisoned all the water and food sources in the arena so what we have with us we will probably have to make last for our whole time in the arena." I explain as simply as I can. He puts all of them back but one.

"Maybe just the one then." I nod. I'm a bit hungry too but I had a granola bar and I'm in no hurry to eat the rest of my supply. I'm glad I have two bottles of water though. The anthem of Panem plays and the faces of the boy from Four and the girl from Five are shown. The rain still hammers down. Dennis yawns.

"You should go to sleep." I say.

"Yes but if people are still out there." He shudders.

"You sleep, I'll keep watch." He looks like he's about to say something but he simply shrugs and climbs over to a hammock made of vines that I had only just noticed.

"Did you make that?" I ask, astounded. He nods.

"I learnt at the knot tying place, only problem is it's still cold." I hand him over my blanket.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yes, it's not like I'm going to need it if I'm keeping guard."

"Okay, but wake me up when you're tired." And he goes to sleep. I sit there listening to the rain pour. The rain has eliminated all food sources which means that I have two bottles of water to last me what could be weeks. I would normally drink that in a day because of the heat. The nights are cold though, even with my fleece on goose bumps are forming. At about two in the morning my arms start to sting again so I reapply the medicine. I sit on the branch all night, listening to the pounding of the rain on the grass outside.

I wonder why the tree didn't melt but it seems like our clothes and habitat are acid proof. My bag wasn't though and neither was the knife. Did that mean that everything from the cornucopia would be destroyed? And if so then that meant the careers only had what they brought with them, I'd bet anything that the rest was still at the cornucopia, they couldn't take it all with them.

In the morning Dennis wakes.

"You didn't wake me!" He says.

"It's fine, I'll sleep now, we still can't go anywhere."

"It's still raining?" He asks, climbing back to his seat. "Fine but you take the hammock." Apparently keeping watch all night has gained his trust. I climb over and soon fall asleep. When I wake I estimate it to be about mid afternoon and the rain has lightened considerably. My stomach roars with hunger so I finish the stew as it won't keep for much longer anyway.

At least the sauce quenches my thirst as well. My skin is now a dark pink and still stings but all the blisters are gone. I coat them with the cream and turn to Dennis.

"Any cannon fires?" I ask.

"No, I think everyone's found cover now." He replies. In which case the rain must stop soon. We talk a bit more about what it's like back home and he asks me more questions about District Three.

"Well no it's a large island really with a train track which soars straight over the sea." I reply to his questioning. He looks astounded. The afternoon rolls by and nothing much happens except the rain gets lighter and lighter until it is just spitting down. The anthem plays and there are no faces in the sky.

When night comes the rain has stopped entirely.

"Well, bye." I say. He looks shocked.

"What you're going?" he asks.

"Well yes, I found this place within ten minutes of the entrance, it doesn't feel very safe."

"That's impossible, it took me half a day to get here."

"Oh well," I start, feeling slightly guilty. "I kind of made a new one."

"Well then wait until morning."

"No," I reply "I only have a bit of water left, I can't travel during the day or I'll dehydrate, I have to go now." He considers this for a moment before turning and rolling up the hammock and stuffing it in his bag.

"Okay then, well I'm coming too." He says and climbs down to join me. Together we venture out into the night.

We walk for days and encounter nobody, we set up camp every day and one of us keeps watch as the other sleeps. I've learned a lot about him and I feel very protective over him now. Like he's my brother.

Four days after we left the tree and only the boy from Eleven and the girl from Nine have died. The watchers will probably be getting bored and that means the gamemakers will do something drastic. Unless we do first. I've been pondering it for a few days now and I've decided there are too many careers in this arena for my liking.

Day begins to break and we scale a tree close to a river that gives a putrid smell of acid, I have a bottle and a half left of water and some granola bars and vegetables left. I still feel dehydrated though.

"Okay who wants to take the first watch?" He asks. He looks exhausted.

"I will but I've been thinking and well, we need to do something about the careers. There're eight of us left and half are careers."

"Yes but what are we going to do about it?"

"Well that's the point Dennis, what a_re _we going to do about it?" he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Kill them?"

"Exactly. And Dennis, I think I have a plan."


	17. Chapter 17

We start to plan our attack on the careers, I'm fairly confident it will work and maybe take out a couple of careers. My only concern is Quentin, he told me to just hide and stay out of the way but with this many careers left, it's only a matter of time.

We set the trap up on the morning of our fourteenth day, only the boy from ten has died though our planning has hopefully kept the audience interested. Dennis made me a net and I've been experimenting with pulleys and triggers made from the vines, theoretically this could work. Only, from working in the factory I know that theory isn't everything.

I walk to the nearest tree and pull down sheaths of leaves and pine needles. I cover the net in it and sweep some of the dirt onto it using my foot. It blends in enough that unless they are looking for traps they won't see it.

"Do we really need to use the hammock?" Dennis asks after securing it to two branches.

"Yes," I reply firmly, "We have to make it look like a permanent setting."

"Yes but we already have the fire." He points to the pile of wood, lighting it will be the last thing we do here.

"You have another one." He made one yesterday. He huffs in defeat and concedes the point, smart move, I can argue for Panem.

I take out my draw string bag and fill it with leaves and place it opposite the hammock. I make a mound on the hammock out of rocks so that it bulges in the right places, looking like there is someone in there.

"Okay, you should go hide in the tree." We decided that seeming as I am fastest at running and climbing I would be the one to light the fire. He nods and runs into a tall, dense tree about twenty metres away.

I pick up the stick and vine that we are going to use to light the fire, glad that I learnt how to easily. I make a loop with the vine and rub it along the stick till it heats and smokes. I chuck it onto the leafy pile and the leaves ignite. I run so hard towards the tree that I can't tell if it's my heart or feet making the slapping, pounding sound.

I make it into the foliage and nimbly climb the branches, perching next to Dennis, peering through the leaves. The fire is blazing and smoke is wafting up. The trees are dense in the forest so as soon as they get close enough they won't be able to see the smoke.

I look to Dennis, stick my fingers in my ear and nod. He opens his mouth and makes an ear aching, heart wrenching scream so loud that a group of mockingjays, it's what I'm calling the mockingbird/jabberjay mix, fly out of their trees into the sky.

We crouch and wait for the careers but none come, maybe they are just out of reach. Every five minutes Dennis screams and we wait again. After Dennis screams for the fifth time I hear something. I shush Dennis and listen, glad that the wind is carrying the conversation in our direction.

"Hey, I think I heard something!" A boy's voice shouts.

"I didn't hear anything." A deeper voice says.

"This way!" The first boy calls. We watch avidly as a group of four burst through the clearing. I see the point of a spear and the glint of a sword and suddenly our plan seems so stupid and ridiculous that I can't believe I did it. I send a silent apology to Quentin.

My heartbeat quickens but I force myself to breathe deeply and silently. Dennis starts shaking and I glare at him to tell him to pull himself together. They stumble through the trees with smugly confident expressions on their dirty faces, I guess they haven't found any useful water either.

I look at our idiotic trap, blaming myself for what will surely be my demise. I'm just a kid though! I shouldn't be here, blaming myself for my death, I should be worrying about boys and friends. I shake my head to clear it, one problem at a time. I promise myself one thing though, If I get out of here, I will do something to stop the games.

"Look!" Sterling yells, I pair him with the deeper voice. He runs over to our fake camp, edging round the fire and flinging him and his sword at the hammock. Bad footing though, he steps right onto the patch of ground that will trigger the net. Mistake number one. We made it with thorny vines, each thorn laced with poison so that one poke will mean death.

"Hey!" He yells to his three friends, anger filling his voice. He points to Kairo "You set me up!" He leans forward and grasps the net with both hands, second mistake. "Get me d-" his cannon fires and he slumps backwards. Mistakes in here mean death.

"No!" Rita from District Two yells. "No!" She runs to the neat in disbelief. She looks shocked but her face sets into a grim determination. She pulls open her jacket and I see the glint of many knives. She pulls out an elegant curved blade and turns away from us to face Kairo.

"Is it true?" She mutters silently, Kairo grabs his scimitar protectively but doesn't pull it out of its holder. "You set him up!" she screams and flings the blades at Kairo's head. His reactions are so quick, he knocks her blade away with his scimitar, I admit I thought he was dead.

Farrah looks confused, like she can't decide whether to break them up or join in. She settles for feeble attempts to get them to stop as they lock into hand to hand combat. I feel a tap on my shoulder and almost fall off the branch. Dennis points to the exit and gestures. I guess there is no better time to escape.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and edge away, Dennis following. My feet touch the ground; I can hear the shouts and calls from the careers behind. We run without considering the noise we make, hoping that their fight will stop them from hearing us.

We head back the way we came so that the place looks familiar. A cannon fires and I briefly wonder whether it was Kairo's or Rita's and then refocus on running. Either way the fight has stopped now and if Kairo won then they would be looking for who set the trap, knowing that it wasn't them.

Maybe Farrah would be fighting the winner, annoyed that they didn't stop when she told them to. Or maybe they would be too devastated over Sterling's death. Or maybe they decided to go their separate ways after realising there were now only five tributes left. I shake my head, _run_ I think and focus on that one thought. I look behind me, no Dennis.

I stop, looking around; I must have out run him. I stand, waiting for him to catch up. After a few minutes when he doesn't turn up I turn around and jog back, there was no proof they followed us and I meant it when I said he is like a brother to me.

My heart thumps loudly anyway, pushing past logic as only instinct can do. I try to calm down but I can't see him. A sudden thump makes me stop in my tracks and turn round. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see Dennis coming running towards me.

"Where were you?" I demand.

"Well you ran off and I couldn't catch up, I think I sprained my ankle so I just hid in the tree. I jumped out when I saw you though." I nod in response, thinking of our next action as he can't move far. Then I hear running from behind. The lake is next to us and there is no way we can out run them, so that leaves hiding but the trees here are too sparse.

I look at the river, our one hope. There are a number of flat stones that we can use to jump across.

"Follow me." I say, without thinking about anything bad that can happen if this plan goes wrong, and a lot can go wrong.

I leap onto the first one and gain my balance.

"Careful it's a bit slippery but hurry." I say, the sound of running hasn't increased in volume but I can still hear it. I leap from rock to rock with more ease than I first expected. My feet touch solid ground and I turn around just to see Dennis slip into the water.

"No!" I yell. He scrapes at the water gasping, he can't swim. Neither can I. I look around in desperation and grab a long branch and hold it out to him. He grasps it and I pull him to the bank and lift him out of the water. Relief surges in me.

That is until he starts coughing, water pours out of his lungs as his body shakes. His skin looks red. Why is it red? The acid. I forgot about the acid. I pull the tube out of the pouch in my backpack; his bag lies in a melted blob at his feet.

I squeeze it onto my hand and rub onto his skin but I know it's too late, his blisters have blisters. At least this will numb the pain. He grabs my arm.

"Shtooop." He says, the acid he swallowed must have hurt his mouth or throat. "It'sh too late. I'm going to d-"

"No, you're not." I say, despite all evidence to the contrary. He stops me with a glare and gulps. His body is convulsing due to the acid, at least the medicine means he can't feel it.

"Just, thanks. For everything." His glare stops me from interrupting. He turns his head slightly so that he faces a small fly. I see the glint in its eye and know that it's a video camera; we hadn't made them any smaller yet. "And tell my family," he says looking through the fly and towards his family who were surely watching his death, "tell them I love them." His body goes still and his cannon fires.


	18. Chapter 18

I sit there staring at Dennis' body waiting for him to jump up and yell "surprise!" but somehow deep inside I know that this is not a joke. This is real, he's said his last word, laughed his last laughed and breathed his last breath. My hand still clutches his but I can't feel a pulse.

All of my thoughts merge into one as I try to make sense of them. I can't hear the footsteps anymore but I know I need to run. I can't wait to stop running. I get to my feet, dragging my limp body; it feels detached like I am controlling it from far away.

I sling my rucksack over my shoulder and stumble away from his body; I can't bear to look at it. When I think of him I want to imagine him laughing on his perch in a tree, not red and covered in blisters.

Tears escape my eye and roll down my cheeks as I realise I am leaving him behind, I always knew it could end like this but I'd never truly considered it. I'd always planned ahead, thought each thing through to the tiniest of details and acted only after a full analysis of all the potential out comes. Being in the arena had changed that. I'd acted on instinct without thinking of what could happen.

When I leapt across those stone all I had thought of was escaping the present danger without thinking of the consequences of it. And I had lead Dennis with me. He was dead because of my stupidity. Not again though, I have to find the right balance. That's not something you can actively do though, it's meant to come from experience, learning from mistakes. Mistakes mean death and this time it was Dennis.

I walk through the forest, my thoughts seem to come together better now. I'm horrified over Dennis' death but at the same time there are four of us left and I need to get out of here so I have to get past this. Here is not the right place to grieve.

Quentin told me to stay out of the way where it is safe and I went against that. It's time to take his advice, I haven't slept since yesterday and night is falling now so I scale a tree that lies in a small copse. Feeling the rough bark on my hands but not truly registering it. Dennis had the spare hammock when he fell in so it's now melted.

Instead I go back to the technique of tying myself onto the branch with my vines and trying to find the most comfortable position I can. My stomach rumbles and I dig out my tin full of food, I have some vegetables, tomatoes and two granola bars. I can last two days until I run out of food. I grab a handful of tomatoes and a granola bar.

They remind me of how determined I was to get out of here and revive some of my strength. I will win. The anthem plays and I watch as Sterling and Rita appear on a screen in the sky. I flinch when I see Dennis and avert my gaze until it stops. Not now, now is not the time to break down. It takes me a while but eventually I fall asleep.

I stay in that tree for two days and fashion a new hammock in the way I watched Dennis make his, it's not as good but not bad for a first attempt. On my third night in my tree the anthem plays but no faces appear. After though, a voice booms so loud that it sounds like someone is shouting in my ear.

It's a male voice, the same one that announced the games. Strong and powerful, his voice rings through the arena.

"Tributes of The Hunger Games, congratulations, there are now only four of you left and to celebrate we are holing a feast at the cornucopia tomorrow evening! We hope you will be encouraged to attend and may the odds be ever in your favour!" He finishes in a cheery tone.

I understand why, they would go as they, like me have run out of food. I still have a few vegetables but not enough to last more than until next morning. I've lost so much weight by cutting back on my food, my hip bones are more prominent than ever and my rib cage juts from my body. Still, I refuse to go to the feast. It's suicide and I'd rather starve to death than to be on the sharp end of Farrah's spear or Kairo's scimitar.

I think back to the faces in the sky wondering who the other tribute is and my mind rests on the District Seven boy. I form a picture in my mind of a burly seventeen year old with tanned skin, black hair and wide brown eyes. I don't remember much else about him, not even his training score.

Shrugging, I pull my blanket up to my chin, thankful yet again that I received this from the cornucopia and that it wasn't destroyed in the acid rain. The hammocks vines aren't as soft as Dennis' and it makes my back itch. It's still better than the grainy feel of the bark on the branches. I sleep.

The next day I use the last of the food, my shrunken stomach urges me to go to the feast but my brain tells me not to. Oh how life would be easier if our stomachs were used to think. Still, I remain rooted to the tree until it is too late for me to venture towards the cornucopia. At this point I relax a little but I notice I am still clutching the handle to my dagger.

In the late afternoon a horn sounds and the same voice rings out announcing the beginning of the feast. Less than two minutes later a cannon sounds. I roll over in my hammock.

In the evening my stomach is growling and I can't help but think of the food on offer for the person who won the battle at the cornucopia. When I hear the anthem I jump up to look, genuinely curious as to who won, who is left. District Seven boy's face fills the screen.

I relax and curl up to sleep. The next day I set a snare using some wire and vines hoping to entice a wild animal though I haven't seen any in the arena since the rain. When I check on it later I find a squirrel and hope fills me. I feel really weak but I know I have to cook it as raw meat isn't going to do me any favours in here.

I can't start a fire though. I remember the instructor mentioning a type of leaf which burns hot for long but retains its gas until the very end of its combustion. I start to focus my efforts on finding this plant but instead I find a small cave. I start the fire in there so that the meat smokes, gaps in the rocks are big enough for oxygen to enter but for the smoke to only escape in wisps.

I climb a tree to eat it and burry myself under my blanket as I watch the sky dim, of all the things I thought I would be in here, bored is not one. I retain a certain amount of fear though that keeps adrenaline pumping through my body making me alert and restless.

Just when I'm thinking this could be a relaxing night I hear the pound of feet as what few animals remain flee from something. The ground starts to shake and I scramble out of the tree and watch it fall to the ground. I look behind me to see trees collapsing and rolling down the arena as the flat ground slopes.

The dry ground tumbles down the slope and I run flat out trying to avoid the approaching onslaught of the mudslide.


	19. Chapter 19

I run, running seems to be the only thing I do in here but I don't even contemplate that. Adrenaline soars through my veins pushing me further and faster through the ever changing terrain. The ground continues to slope as I run and I hit the floor, touching it for only a brief moment before I soar again.

My heart pounds but I can't hear it over the sound of the falling trees. I'm glad the river is behind me or I would have to cope with flooding as well. I sprint forwards, dodging the falling debris. My feet dart over rocks and mounds without me directing them, acting on survival instinct.

I dart every fallen item and keep running. I don't even know where I'm going just that if there is safe land to find then my feet will take me to it. A cannon fires and I wonder who got caught in the falling items. The wind whips around my arms as it too is sucked below me.

I run forwards and the ground crumbles around my feet. The hedges of the maze come into view and I run forwards, my sights set on finding the entrance, what used to be the exit. I see the hole that I made, seems like years ago that I did that. My feet turn towards it as the ground rolls away, with one last push, as the ground disintegrates around me I leap through the hole.

I pull my feet through and stand inside the maze; I thought I'd escaped this place. I poke my head out of the hole and look down at what used to be the grass covered ground. Instead I see an abyss of nothing, far too deep for me to see the bottom.

I think of who fell into it and as if on track the music plays and the screen flies, showing Kairo's face staring stubbornly down at me. Just Farrah and I left then. I wonder what my next move should be and realise that there is really only one thing I can do, they will only bring us there any way and I'd rather be there before she is. Begrudgingly, I head towards the cornucopia.

I didn't have time to grab my backpack during the mudslide so all I have on me are my knives. I take them both out of my belt and place one in my pocket, hoping that if I lose the other Farrah may think I'm disarmed and I can surprise her.

The other knife I grip in my hand in case she doesn't want to wait until the gamemakers bring us together. I could run or hide but it's only a matter of time and neither of those would get me out of this wretched place.

The moonlight shines down onto the arena, it should make it seem eerie but it fills me with confidence. Either way I will not see the moon again in here. I lost my torch in the mudslide so I stumble along in the general direction of the cornucopia.

About three hours later I arrive at the cornucopia, it's empty but the paint splats on the ground make me shudder. The bloodbath blood would have washed away in the rain which means all of the blood must belong to District Seven. What did they do to him? Do I face the same fate?

I push those thoughts away from me. I want to take Farrah by surprise so I survey the area and stand in the coils of the cornucopia. Unless she flies above me, she won't see me. I watch the moon move across the sky and the sun rise, remembering watching it with Connor. The thought of his face fills me with hope and confidence, thinking back to his words of encouragement. I could do this.

In mid-afternoon Farrah arrives, I hold my breath before slowly releasing it. I could do this. She doesn't see me and sits in the middle of the ground to my left. She looks into the bush and begins to talk, to the cameras. Of course, I'm planning my survival and she's looking to entertain.

"So they still aren't here yet?" She groans, her voice oozing annoyance. "Urgh it's so ridiculous, I don't even know who's left, it can't be anyone important." She cocks her head to the side. "It's okay Mum, I'll see you soon! So um gamemakers, seeming as the idiot tribute left isn't here yet do you think you could, I don't know, trick them to come?

"Do you want to know what I'm going to do when they get here? Well I'm going to make it a _very _interesting death." She giggles, the noise sounds so wrong on her lips. I'm tired of running, time to strike. I raise my arm to aim my knife, at the same time she swings the mace she was holding round her head and lets go. Even though she doesn't know it yet, I'm here and her mace swings right towards me.

I jump out the way but at the same time I go rolling along the cornucopia, landing in a heap at the floor. Farrah's head snaps up at the sound and I spring to my feet, I fling my knife but it misses. She laughs.

"You? District Eight? No...Three!" she laughs louder "No way did you survive this long! Oh no you don't!" She had seen me running towards the knife that had gone sailing past her. She throws her spear so fast that I don't even have time to register it until pain erupts in my shoulder and I am pinned to the ground. The spear has pierced my flesh and is holding me trapped on the ground. Blood pours down my front and I try to get up but every move sends ripples of pain through my body.

I clutch my hand around the spear and pull, withholding my shriek of agony as I pull it free and toss it to the side. Farrah stands at my feet and flings herself down so that her hands lie on my shoulder and she holds my legs in place with her knees. Her pressure on my shoulder heightens the pain but prevents me from losing too much blood. She removes her hand and wipes it on her trousers.

"Gross! I don't want your filthy blood on me!" She tosses her head up to face the sky "You'd better have some sanitizer up there, I don't want this on my hands when I win!" She withdraws from her belt a short mallet.

Her brunette hair whips around her face and her dirty green eyes glare evils at me. She's about three times the size of me and made entirely of muscle. I struggle to push her off but she laughs at my attempt.

"Stop moving!" she shrieks. Yes, because that's going to happen, I roll my eye which aggravates her more. I continue to struggle and her laughter turns into a growl.

"I was going to let you live a little longer but if you're going to be trouble, little girl." She caresses her mallet. She's only two years older than me.

"My name's Tori." I spit at her. I expect her to laugh again at my outburst but instead she snarls back at me, upset that I'm not just going along with her murder attempt. She leans back and I'm able to reach my pocket.

"Like I care." I subtly try to get my knife without alerting her to the fact that I am not as powerless as she thinks. My hand grasps the blade and I pull it up at the same time as she leans forwards.

Her sudden movement means that my strike was not to her stomach as wished but instead barely scratches her side. At the same time the heavy mallet comes crashing down onto my skull with such force behind it I'm momentarily surprised at her strength but then everything goes black.


	20. Chapter 20

I wake on a soft fabric. My eyes are still closed so I explore with my other senses. There is a strong smell of disinfectant and a constant beep sounds from next to me. I'm not wearing my arena outfit but what feels like a paper dress. I'm lying on a sheet stretched tight over a mattress. There's a bland taste in my mouth and with the exception of a slight headache I feel fine.

I keep silent because I can also hear a whispered conversation.

"Is it done?" A harsh voice asked.

"Yes Father, she has gone to live with auntie and an...accident... has been arranged for her travel there. Then I will become your vice president and eventually your successor." A child's voice replied.

I open my eyes a fraction and see President Snow and his son. His son looks older up close about my age rather than about eight as I first thought. I think of their conversation and my eyes widen with realisation. President Snow looks over.

"Ahh good you're awake, well congratulations the first ever Victor." He says with a harshness to his voice which clearly shows his disapproval to me being alive. Come to think of it shouldn't Farrah be here? I gulp; my thoughts have the groggy feeling again where my thoughts merge into one and that one thought is the conversation I just heard.

"You're going to kill your daughter?" I ask horrified, I get the feeling I normally wouldn't ask this but in my current state the words just roll from my tongue. He purses his lips and his eyes narrow.

"Yes." He says bluntly. "Call me old fashioned but I believe my successor should be male but you aren't going to tell anyone are you?"

"Why not?" I reply, marvelling at my own nerve.

"Because that could result in your death." I laugh.

"You aren't going to kill me, I'm the first Victor," though I'm still not sure how "everyone would know that you killed me."

"Then your friends at the _orphanage_" He sneers the word. I gulp but carry on anyway because I'm sick of being pushed around.

"Yes but it would be a lot easier for me to keep it secret if I gained something from it, then I would want to keep it a secret."

"What do you want?" He replies with suspicion. A plan suddenly forms in my head.

"Immunity from the games."

"All Victors are immune." He spits.

"Not for me." I reply as if this is obvious. "For my friends and, if in the future I get any, my family." His eyes flick from side to side as though considering.

"The odds of them getting chosen ar-" I interrupt him.

"I'm not stupid. I'm the first Victor, if I have children then they will get reaped."

"Okay, Miss Yates, we have a deal." He's joking, I hadn't actually expected this to work. I shake his hand but he whispers in my ear. "If I get so much as a rumour of rebellious behaviour then the games will be the last of their worries."

He leaves with his son and the doctors come rushing in, now for some answers as to why I'm still alive. When I ask they are shocked that I don't know.

"Well you poisoned the blade!" A doctor shrieks in reply, and when my confused expression is seen he slows his voice as if speaking to a child. "You had sashberries in your pocket, remember? It crushed against your blade. When you cut Farrah the poison killed her." Oh, that makes sense.

The rest of my time in the Capitol is quick, Quentin is unbelievably happy, his skin is its natural colour which is a light brown. He introduces me to his wife and explains that she made him dye his skin.

I start crying when I see District Three as I had already said goodbye but Connor and Grace's excitement when they see our new home in the Victors Village almost makes it worthwhile. Almost. I curl up in Connors arms, ready to spend the rest of my life in peace.

The sun fades over my house and I sit under a tree in our garden. My hand brushes the grass as I run my fingers between the blades that are still damp. My other hand rests on the freshly dug patch of Earth on my right side. My hand moves up, tracing the letters cut onto the smooth, polished stone at the top of the pile of dirt. I pick up a small packet next to me and sprinkle the seeds onto the Earth, knowing how much he would prefer it covered in grass.

Sixty years ago I won the Hunger Games. Watching the sunset here brings back so many memories that I have tried to replace with the happier ones later in my life, but no one could enter those games and forget.

My hand brushes Connor's grave. He died last week and I know I will soon join him and finally stop running. Tears spring to my eyes though I don't quite know why, I guess it's mostly the fact that at Seventy-Six I haven't completed the one promise I made to myself in my most desperate time.

To stop the games had been my one aim, and I did try. My children too, President Snow kept his word even if I didn't keep mine. All three avoided the games, though when Grace's child was reaped I swore he would come out alive. Never had I worked so hard to get a child out but eventually Beetee joined me in the Victor's Village.

He also joined me in my efforts to stop the games, inventing things with me and plotting. Quentin was good for gaining support in the Capitol but we still needed a plan. On the surface we invent electronics though we are really inventing weapons. The knowledge hidden from the Capitol but retained in District Thirteen.

Regardless of all that planning we still need the spark that lights the fire of rebellion and it's only a matter of time. No mistakes this time.

My head starts spinning and I feel dizzy. Pain erupts in my chest, my heart feels like it's on fire. I lean my head against the tree before I enter a dreamless sleep.


End file.
